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CARITA 

AND HOW SHE BECAME A 
PATRIOTIC AMERICAN 




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1 



WITH EASY GRACE HE STRUCK THE CHORDS AND SANG IT 
THROUGH ” (see page pp) 






Cacita 

AND HOW SHE BECAME 
A PATRIOTIC AMERICAN 


By LUCY M. BLANCHARD 


ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN GOSS 




THE PAGE COMPANY 
BOSTON ^ MDCCCCXVIII 



Copyright, 1918, by 
The Page Company 


All rights reserved 


First Impression, September, 1918 


OCT 18 laiB 


©Q.AS082a9 


TO 

MY MOTHER 


# 















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I From the Balcony i 

II Her Mother’s Bracelet . . . . ii 

III A Group of Girls 22 

IV A New Idea — Patriotism • • • 39 

V The Bull Fight 53 

VI The Jolly Picnic 64 

VII An Exciting Experience . . . • 79 

VIII Daddy 93 

IX Behind Closed Doors .... 108 

X Fortune Telling 121 

XI A Story Book House 138 

XH The Military Ball 149 

XHI On Burro Back 161 

XIV Confidences 176 

XV Felipe 190 

XVI Carita’s Dream 209 

XVH Anxious Days 224 

XVHI A Disappointing Christmas . . 233 

XIX The Piece of Wedding Cake . . 245 

XX The Decision 255 

XXI The Flight . 266 

XXH The Other Bracelet .... 279 

XXHI The Star Spangled Banner . . 289 

Glossary 297 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 


With easy grace he struck the chords 

AND SANG IT THROUGH.” (See page 47 ) ^ 

Frontispiece 

Tying her handkerchief round Alice’s 

EYES ” ...... 34 




“Joined the strange procession on the ^ 
CANAL ” . . . . . . 70 

“ She drew herself up to her full height, ^ 

HER EYES BLAZING ” . . . .86 


“ ‘ See, this very moment she has tossed 

HIM A rose!”’ ..... 173 

“ Carita sat near, with the little right 

•HAND IN hers ” . .. .. . . 274 





CARITA 

And How She Became a 
Patriotic American 


CHAPTER I 

FROM THE BALCONY 

exclaimed her mother, 
^ k joining the young girl on the 
balcony of their Mexican home, 
‘‘have you forgotten we must make our plans 
this morning for your birthday luncheon? 
What are you finding of so much interest?” 

“Nothing,” was the laughing response, as 
Carita flung back her hair that hung in a 
heavy black braid down her back; “that is, 
1 


2 


Carita: Patriotic American 


nothing very special. You know I never 
grow tired of looking over the balcony. 
Awhile ago there was a circus parade with 
the funny clown and now there’s a wedding 
in the church opposite. Such oceans of 
flowers ! There’s the bride now coming out 
of her carriage!” and she leaned eagerly 
over the railing. 

For some time the two stood there watch- 
ing the never-ending life below them : there 
was the Indian water carrier, so loaded that 
only his feet were visible ; straggling men 
with bright blankets or zerapes round their 
shoulders; bare-footed women, their blue 
rebozos carelessly thrown over their heads, 
while wooden carts rattled by, interspersed 
with the inevitable popcorn man jingling his 
bell and followed by a host of ragged peon 
urchins, with lank black hair, smiling faces 
and merry black eyes. Carita loved it all, 
even to the pink cats and sheep painted by 


From the Balcony s 

devoted hands in an effort to enhance their 
beauty, and the occasional dog with lemons 
tied round his neck, a supposed cure for dis- 
temper. 

Perhaps the setting had something to do 
with the charm; the snow-capped volcanoes, 
the picturesque balconies on pink adobe 
houses, suggestions of patios, glowing with 
masses of geraniums even in early January. 
Nothing in old Mexico was commonplace, 
from the women grinding corn for tortillas 
to the occasional glimpses one might catch 
of the young girl leaning, like Juliet, from 
her balcony, while her Romeo, in the street 
below, lightly fingered his guitar as he 
‘^played bear,” which is Mexican for that 
kind of timid courtship. 

Nearly twenty years before, Mrs. An- 
drews had come there as a bride and, though 
a loyal American, had yielded, as foreigners 
usually do, to the peculiar charm of the coun- 


4 


Carita: Patriotic American 


try. She chose for her home in the city a 
vivienda (the Mexican name for apart- 
ment) in an old monastery, preferring it to 
the houses built after the American style in 
other parts of the city. There was a fasci- 
nation about the thick walls, the winding 
staircase, the ponderous doors with iron 
knockers that seemed a part of the life there. 
She had furnished the apartment with every- 
thing typical of the country : an old Mexican 
zerape, beautiful in its mellow colors, cov- 
ered the lounge ; carved tables, picked up in 
junk shops; while funny stone idols dug up 
in the streets, and belonging to the dim past, 
grinned from the corners of the room. 

She would have been quite content in this 
land of ‘‘glorious sunshine” and quaint cus- 
toms had it not been that her husband’s busi- 
ness kept him months at a time, during the 
sugar grinding season, in a lonely part of the 
republic. 


From the Balcony 5 

But with Carita it was different. The 
time was not far distant when she must be 
sent to the United States to finish her edu- 
cation — a year or two at the farthest. On 
the balcony that bright morning, with her 
mind full of the coming birthday party, Mrs. 
Andrews sighed at the separation each year 
was bringing nearer. With a quick look 
Carita turned. 

“Mummy dear, are you really so sorry Fm 
growing up? To think, one week more and 
I shall be fifteen. We must surely have a 
grand celebration. Isn’t it nice Alice and 
Katharine are here from New York, two 
American girls at my party? Of course,” 
she continued reffectively, “we are all Amer- 
ican girls — Carmen, Lucetta and Dolores, 
only we’re sort of Mexican, too. If I didn’t 
know I was 'Americano,’ with a sure enough 
certificate, made out when I was sixteen days 
old, and giving my real, true name — Mar- 


6 


Carita: Patriotic American 


garet Andrews — I would be inclined to doubt 
it myself.” 

Her mother smiled, the light words bring- 
ing to her mind recollections of the day 
when her husband, bending over the little 
crib, had whispered, “Carita,” Spanish for 
“well beloved.” 

There had not been a day since when the 
child had not held them all her willing slaves, 
from her own special nurse, Francisca, to her 
adoring father and mother. What wonder 
she was a little spoiled and selfish. 

But Carita was impatiently tapping her 
foot. “There’s one thing certain, this must 
be a real Mexican luncheon for the special 
benefit of Alice and Katharine. Dolores 
says this will be the first party, and they 
came a week ago.” 

Her black eyes snapped and she went 
into a gale of laughter. “We’ll begin with 
fruit, of course, and mangoes, at that. It 


From the Balcony 7 

will be fun to show them how to eat 
them” 

“Yes/’ continued her mother equally in- 
terested, “and I’ll have Clemencia make 
chicken tamales, not the kind they have in 
the States, and stuffed chillis — ” 

“And frijoles,” interrupted Carita; “they 
never in the world will recognize beans un- 
der that name ; besides, a salad with tortillas 
instead of crackers, and we must surely have 
American ice cream or the girls won’t think 
it’s a really, truly party.” She paused a 
moment, then went on happily, “and a birth- 
day cake with candles and love knots made 
in pink frosting. Oh, it will be the best 
luncheon : if I could only think of something 
to do afterwards, something that would make 
a lot of fun. I suppose I might have a Jack 
Horner’s pie, — don’t you remember Aunt 
Emily wrote about the big pie they had on 
her birthday, in the center of the table, with 


8 


Carita: Patriotic American 


ribbons to pull at every place ?’’ She wrin- 
kled her brows thoughtfully, '‘but that isn’t 
Mexican, and probably Alice and Katharine 
have seen plenty of Jack Horner pies. Oh, 
dear, why can’t I think of something?” 

“Why not have a pinatef suggested her 
mother. “As you say, the girls missed all 
the Christmas festivities, and I doubt if they 
know that a pinate is what the Mexican chil- 
dren have instead of a tree.” 

“The very thing!” was Carita’s delighted 
answer. “We’ll hang it in the patio and tell 
them it’s a game of blind man’s buff when 
we tie the handkerchiefs over their eyes. 
Imagine, mi madre, not knowing that a patio 
is a lovely court all full of flowers and plants 
and canary birds. I would hate to live in 
a house without a patio/* 

She paused a moment, then added a little 
wistfully, “Do you know, I think I shall be 
very homesick for Mexico when the time 


From the Balcony 9 

comes for me to go to school? You see, I 
won’t have any balcony nor you to spoil me 
nor Francisca to pick up after me. And 
the worst of it is, I don’t want to be any 
different.” She sighed. shouldn’t like 
to be ‘Margaret’ all the time.” 

“But your father and I want you to have 
every advantage of education — you must go 
to some good school and, perhaps, afterwards 
make a specialty of your music. You will 
find there is no place like the United States, 
after all.” 

“Well, Mummy, we have two years to- 
gether anyway before I must go away and 
be educated and, in the meantime, I don’t 
want any better music than the band plays 
on Sundays in the Alameda.” 

With a quick impulsive gesture she rose, 
gave her mother an affectionate kiss and 
went out again on the balcony. The morn- 
ing’s chill had given place to the hot noon- 


10 


Carita: Patriotic American 


day glare, the wedding was over in the 
church opposite and the guests had dispersed. 
Carita leaned over the railing; by craning 
her neck she could see the little park up the 
street. It was filling with light-hearted 
groups of men, women and children gather- 
ing for their noonday meal of tortillas and 
frijoles. In the belfry opposite she watched 
the bells ringing for twelve o’clock; down 
town the shutters were being put up on all 
the windows for, after luncheon, every shop 
would remain closed for the afternoon siesta. 
In the clear light, the volcanoes stood out 
with sharp distinctness against the blue sky. 

Her eyes grew soft and she whispered, 
“Two years in which I can be Carita and 
look over the balcony !” 


CHAPTER II 

HER mother’s bracelet 

A ll was excitement the morning of 
Carita’s birthday. Even Francisca 
and Clemencia, with smiling faces, 
added special greetings to the usual ^‘Buenos 
Dias/* for was not their beloved Senorita 
fifteen years old on this — the twentieth of 
January? 

As Carita entered the dining-room, her 
eyes shining with excitement, she gave a 
little cry of pleasure : there were parcels of 
every size and description piled around her 
plate and, at the very top, a letter from her 
father. She caught it up eagerly; anxious 
to read it before opening the presents. 

11 


12 


Carita: Patriotic American 


“Dear Little Daughter, 

“I am sorry I cannot be with you on 
your birthday and give you fifteen kisses, 
with ever so many to grow on, but we 
are not able always to do as we would 
wish, so, with all the love possible, I am 
enclosing a check so that you may buy 
a guitar for yourself and be able to play 
and sing for me when I come home.” 

Carita stopped. “Isn’t that exactly like 
Daddy? He knows how much I have al- 
ways wanted a guitar. Now Felipe and I 
can play together.” She took up the letter 
again, holding it a moment to her lips: 
“Yes, Daddy dear, I will sing to you all day 
long, if you wish” : 

“I am reminded of a little verse I 
once heard which seems to me to exactly 
fit the occasion. 


Her Mother's Bracelet 


13 


‘Sure Old Father Time 
Was glad the morning, 

Of the day that you was bom in. 

And the world is glad this minute, 

That you still are livin’ in it.’ 

*‘It is hard to realize you are growing 
up — Fifteen years! for, no matter how 
old you are you will always be ‘Little 
Carita’ to your loving, 

“Father.” 

She brushed away a tear ; he was very dear 
to her : this father who had to be so far away. 
As a little girl her constant lament had been, 
“Why can’t Daddy stay wiv us all de time?” 

But Carita was never depressed for long 
and the sunshine came back as she began 
cutting strings and undoing the bright rib- 
bons ; it seemed to her there was everything 
for which she had ever expressed a wish, and 
a great many things besides. Her eyes were 
bright as she clasped a strand of corals round 


14 


Carita: Patriotic American 


her neck, and she almost screamed over the 
gay kimono; there was a full set of mono- 
grammed ivory for her dresser, her Aunt 
Emily had sent that from Boston, and, away 
at the bottom of everything else, was a jew- 
eler’s box marked, ‘‘To Carita, from her 
mother, on her fifteenth birthday.” She 
looked curiously at it. “Whatever can it 
be? Too big for a ring and not the right 
shape for a watch! Mother, dear, I sim- 
ply cannot imagine.” 

When she finally opened it, her eyes grew 
big with surprise : “A bracelet ! and such a 
beauty!” She slipped it on her arm, turn- 
ing it round and round in increasing delight. 
“Tell me, mother, where did you ever find 
it? I am quite sure I never saw anything 
so beautiful.” 

“It is something I have had for years and 
I felt you would prize it because of its his- 
tory as well as its beauty.” 


Her Mother’s Bracelet 15 

It was such a thing as might have been 
picked up in one of the famous pawn shops 
of the capital — a flat, dull band of gold, 
heavily chased, in which was set an opal of 
unusual size and coloring. 

For a few moments Carita was silent, 
watching, as if fascinated, the strange chang- 
ing green, blue and red light, then, very 
slowly, as if thinking deeply, said: “Tell 
me the story, mother, please. I feel almost 
as if the stone had life in it.’’ 

“Yes, little daughter, I will tell you all 
about it — put away the presents and come 
into the other room with me. I want you to 
see your Uncle Robert’s picture.” 

“Uncle Robert’s picture!” echoed Carita, 
incredulously, gathering her treasures to- 
gether. “Why, I didn’t know I had an Un- 
cle Robert. Where does he live and why 
haven’t I heard of him before?” 

“That is what I am about to tell you. He 


16 


Carita: Patriotic American 


was a great deal older than I and it all hap- 
pened when I was a very little girl. You see, 
he was an impractical kind of a fellow — ‘full 
of music,’ mother used to say, and father 
never had any patience with him. He was 
so disappointed at not being able to make, 
a business man of him.” She paused a mo- 
ment. “Well, one day the rupture came. I 
can just remember it, although I couldn’t 
have been more than four years old at the 
time. Father was dreadfully angry over 
something he called ‘nothing but foolishness,’ 
and Robert went out of the house and said 
he would never return.” 

“And didn’t he?” queried the eager lis- 
tener. “Tell me, didn’t you ever see him 
again ?” 

“Only once, and that was years after. 
The rest of the family were at church, and 
I was reading under the big tree in the corner 
of the yard when a buggy stopped at the 


Her Mother^ s Bracelet 


17 


gate and a strange man, with side whiskers, 
got out and asked if he could not come into 
the house and look around.” 

'‘Weren’t you dreadfully afraid?” 

"No, there was something about him that 
made me feel perfectly safe, and then Toby, 
our big Newfoundland, never left my side 
all the time he was there.” 

A little shudder passed over Carita at 
thought of the strange man as she ques- 
tioned, breathlessly, "What did he do?” 

"Nothing at all except look at the portraits 
in the hall — first at father’s and then at 
mother’s. I remember his voice was husky 
when he thanked me.” 

"Was that all?” 

"All, except that when he left he clasped 
this bracelet on my arm saying. This is for 
you. Tell your father and mother that your 
brother Robert has been here and is going 
back to Mexico, that he is married and his 


18 


Carita: Patriotic American 


wife has a bracelet similar to this.’ Then 
he called my attention to the lights in the 
opal, adding, T found it myself, little sister, 
in Queretaro, and I want you to think of 
your brother whenever you look at it.’ I 
shall never forget mother’s face when I 
told her of his visit.” 

“Didn’t you ever hear from him again?” 

“Not directly, although some one told fa- 
ther years after, that he heard he had died 
in Mexico and left a wife and little child. 
When we decided to come here I was hope- 
ful that we might get some clew to their 
whereabouts, but, so far, we have not been 
successful.” Turning to the table drawer, 
she took out an old-fashioned photograph. 
“This is he; you see the face is that of a 
dreamer, weak but sensitive. I have often 
thought, Carita, that you are much like him 
in your love of music.” 

Carita gave a long sigh. “Mi madre, 


Her Mother's Bracelet 


19 


don’t you know how I have longed to have a 
brother or sister or cousin, and now,” she 
spoke slowly, “it seems almost as if it might 
come true. I am going to watch every place 
I go for the other bracelet, and I am just 
as sure I shall find it sometime. Oh, 
Mummy, Mummy, think what it would mean 
to have a really, truly relative of one’s own !” 

A sharp knock at the door made them both 
start. Carita hastily slipped her treasure 
up her sleeve, and, a moment later, a tall 
young fellow entered the room with an arm- 
ful of American Beauty roses. “For your 
birthday, my lady.” 

She buried her face in the fragrant flow- 
ers. “Oh, Felipe, Felipe, gracias! You 
never forget, do you?” 

“Indeed not, and let’s see, how old is it? 
Fifteen! I’m only two years older myself, 
although I feel a great deal older. I sup- 
pose because I am a boy.” 


20 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Carita laughed. She felt herself very 
much grown up on this particular birthday. 
“These flowers are absolutely perfect — the 
very thing for my party. Tell me, have you 
been to the flower market already,?’' 

“Yes, and it was a perfect sight, with all 
kinds of set pieces, besides tube roses and 
lilies, and ever so many that I didn’t know 
the name of. I wish I could have carried 
more. I’d have managed it some way, if 
I’d known there was a party on the tapis. 
And, Carita, I almost brought you a parrot.” 

She laughed joyously. “To keep me com- 
pany, I suppose, but father has sent me 
money to buy a guitar, so I won’t be lone- 
some ever again. As for my party, it’s only 
a luncheon for six. Carmen, Dolores, Lu- 
cetta and her two cousins from New York. 
If you only were a girl, you could come too.” 

“It’s my misfortune that I can’t disguise 
as a princess and slip in with the rest, but 


Her Mother's Bracelet 


21 


perhaps my services will come in later — 
showing the sights to people from the States 
is always interesting. Wonder how they’d 
like to see a bull fight! But I must be peg- 
ging along; there’s plenty of time for me 
when there isn’t a party on hand. Adios, 
and happy returns.” 

He was gone and Carita was soon busy 
arranging the roses in a tall vase for the 
center of the table. She was singing and 
musing to herself. How many friends she 
had, to be sure, and what a happy girl she 
ought to be! 

She stopped to look at the bracelet on her 
arm. “Suppose she did have a really, truly 
cousin somewhere in the world.” Of this 
she was convinced — she must never, never 
stop looking for the mate to her bracelet. 


CHAPTER III 


A GROUP OF GIRLS 

‘ T THAT a perfectly lovely old 

W place!” 

^ ^‘And what enormously 

thick walls !” 

“Did you ever see such a fascinating 
knocker ?” 

The five girls who had been invited to the 
birthday celebration were laughing and talk- 
ing together as they climbed the old stair- 
case and, when Carita herself opened the 
door, there was a chorus of mingled ''Buenos 
Dias'" and “Happy Returns of the Day.” 
Alice exclaiming, “And here is the fairy 
princess herself in this enchanted palace!” 

“Monastery, you mean,” was the laughing 
22 


A Group of Girls 23 

rejoinder; “and this isn’t half as queer as 
many places I could show you. It only dates 
back about three hundred years. Besides, 
I want you to understand that there’s a 
church in another part of the monastery. 
Yes,” she nodded, “a real, true, Presbyterian 
church! Think of it! under the same roof 
with us,” and she laughed gayly at the im- 
pression she had evidently made. 

“Well,” asserted Katharine positively, “if 
I lived in Mexico, I should choose just such 
a place. It’s all too interesting for words.” 

“Come, Carita,” interrupted Dolores, 
“show us your birthday gifts. I can scarcely 
wait to see them.” Then, catching sight of 
the ivory set on the dresser, “How perfectly 
beautiful! but what is the ‘M’ in the mono- 
gram for?” 

Carita made a wry face. “Didn’t you 
know my name is just plain American ‘Mar- 
garet’? Aunt Emily never will recognize 


24 


Carita: Patriotic American 


anything as heathenish and absurd as ‘Ca- 
rita/ And my letters from her are ad- 
dressed so properly, ‘Miss Margaret An- 
drews,’ that I scarcely recognize my own 
foolish self. But she was a dear to send me 
such a wonderful present and I’m going to 
try my hardest to live up to the dignified 
‘M,’ and, Dolores, what do you think? 
Daddy wants me to buy the very best guitar 
I can possibly find and be able to play and 
sing for him the next time he comes home.” 

As she paused out of breath, Lucetta put 
in, “What else? You haven’t told us all, I 
know.” 

Carita laughed, proceeding to count off the 
remaining gifts on her fingers, hesitating a 
little before she mentioned the last and most 
precious — the bracelet; at the same time slip- 
ping it off and handing it to the girls to ex- 
amine. 

“What a glorious opal!” cried Alice. “I 


A Group of Girls 


25 


am wild over opals ! Do you suppose I could 
find one like it for a scarf pin?” 

“I don’t know,” Carita answered doubt- 
fully; “it would be hard to find one so bril- 
liant.” 

“And the chased band! and raised clasp, 
with the monogram ! There must be a story 
about it,” interposed Dolores ; “there’s a story 
about everything in Mexico, you know.” 

Carita flushed painfully, answering slowly, 
“Ye-s, there is a story connected with it,” 
then, with visible relief, as her mother en- 
tered the room, “but here’s mother and 
luncheon is ready. Be prepared, girls, it’s 
a real Mexican luncheon.” 

Taking their places at the table, so daintily 
arranged for the six girls, Alice exclaimed 
over the exquisite drawn-work tablecloth, 
while her sister, snatching up her place card, 
cried, “Tell me, did you paint these birds?” 

“Look a little closer,” interposed Carmen, 


26 


Carita: Patriotic American 


“and you will find they are not painted at 
all, but are made of feathers. Haven’t you 
ever heard of the Indian feather work?” 

As the girls more closely scrutinized one 
and another of the cards, they found it hard 
to decide which was the most beautiful, al- 
though Carmen declared in favor of the pea- 
cock, and Katharine preferred the Mexican 
eagle, while Alice made a mental note to take 
some home for her trousseau luncheon. 

In the center of the table was the huge 
bunch of roses, and, somewhat triumphantly, 
Dolores cried: “There, girls, you couldn’t 
find such flowers in New York outside of a 
conservatory, and, even then, they would 
cost a fortune! How much were they, Ca- 
rita?” 

“I don’t quite know ; a few centavos apiece, 
in your money, I am sure,” she replied; 
“Felipe bought them at the flower market.” 

“They’re simply gorgeous !” asserted 


A Group of Girls 


27 


Alice, bending over them, ‘‘and I presume 
Felipe is the Prince of this enchanted place.” 

Carita laughed. “Oh, no, Felipe is only 
Felipe, that’s all. He’s exactly two years 
older than I, and he never forgets my birth- 
day. His mother was an old friend of moth- 
er’s, and when I was one year old she brought 
him to see me, with a red rose in his tiny 
fist. I told him this morning if he were only 
a girl he could come to my party, — but he’s 
offered to help in the sightseeing.” 

“Good !” acquiesced Lucetta, clapping her 
hands, “there are no end of things to see 
and places to go. Nobody can help like Fe- 
lipe.” 

“I’ve been wondering,” interrupted Kath- 
arine, doubtfully surveying the strange fruit 
which had been placed before her a few 
moments before, “what under the sun this 
is and how we are supposed to eat it.” 

Carmen and Lucetta burst into peals of 


28 


Carita: Patriotic American 


laughter, as Carita replied, selecting a pe- 
culiarly shaped fork from the silver at her 
place, “I forgot you might need instructions. 
The fruit is a mango, you stick the long 
prong of the fork into the end of the stone, 
like this, and then — why, then you eat it the 
best you can. That’s all,” and she laughed 
at the unsuccessful attempts made by the 
two novices; ‘‘if at first, you don’t succeed, 
try, try again” ; adding consolingly, as they 
looked slightly disconcerted, “It’s honestly 
worth while.” 

After some further experimenting they 
both agreed with her and enjoyed the fruit 
immensely, although Alice insisted it tasted 
a wee bit like turpentine. 

The luncheon was a great success and, 
while the girls seemed at first suspicious of 
the Mexican dishes, they ended by liking 
them, from the chillis to the salad. Mrs. 
Andrews had added, on her own account, 


A Group of Girls 29 

hot baking-powder biscuits, and when these 
were brought in Alice remarked, with 
some relief in her tone, ‘We’re on safe 
ground now. I never tasted better at 
home.” 

The birthday cake was a masterpiece, with 
its pink candles, and bow knots. ‘T’ve got 
the ring!” exclaimed Lucetta, holding it up 
triumphantly. 

“And I, the money !” shouted Alice, as she 
pulled out a Mexican coin. 

‘T suppose I shall have to sit in the cor- 
ner and spin,” said Carita resignedly, with 
a thimble on the end of her finger, while 
Dolores, with evident pleasure, pinned a 
four-leaved clover on her dainty blouse. 

As Mrs. Andrews watched the fun, she 
could not but feel they were an unusually 
interesting group of girls. Alice, somewhat 
older than the others, was tall and slender, 
with light hair and blue eyes : she was to be 


/ 


30 


Carita: Patriotic American 


married in the fall, and so was much inter- 
ested in picking up pretty things for the 
charming home she and Tom had planned. 
Katharine, her sister, a studious girl of 
eighteen, took the trip most seriously, eager 
to learn all she could of the strange country. 
Alice had laughed when she had discovered 
her in the library a few weeks before, deep 
in Prescott’s ''Conquest of Mexico.” 

Carmen was like a butterfly, full of native 
grace and charm. Though her father was 
a loyal American, he had married a Mexican 
Sehorita, and Carmen was a true child of 
the sunny, romantic land. In striking con- 
trast was Dolores, who was practical and 
sober to a fault, and Lucetta, a frail, deli- 
cate girl of sixteen. 

The mother’s eyes wandered lovingly to 
her own daughter, the idol of her heart. 
Carita was just herself — ^gay, vivacious, 
pleasure loving. Selfish, yes, and yet gen- 


A Group of Girls 


31 


erosity itself when occasion presented. She 
was as full of changing light as a prism or 
the opal in her bracelet, and yet there was 
a trace of the Puritan which sometimes as- 
serted itself and surprised those who knew 
nothing of her real nature. 

‘‘And, now, mother,” cried Carita, break- 
ing in upon her revery, “the girls want to 
see the kitchen. I can’t make them under- 
stand a brassero is a Mexican stove and that 
the cooking is done with charcoal.” As she 
spoke she was pushing back her chair and 
leading the way to a dark room that an- 
swered for a kitchen, where Francisca and 
Clemencia ruled supreme. Stretched along 
one side of the room was a kind of solid 
table built of brick in which, at intervals, 
were depressions where the remains of char- 
coal fires still smoldered. Clemencia showed 
all her white teeth as the Sehorita pointed 
out her earthenware pots and pans in which 


32 


Carita: Patriotic American 


the vegetables were cooked and laughed with 
pleasure when the girls praised her biscuits 
and wondered how ever in the world she 
could have baked them in the funny con- 
trivance that served as an oven. She was 
very grateful to the Senora for having taught 
her the art of biscuit making. 

Katharine declared she hadn’t begun to 
see all she wanted to^ when Carita hurried 
them into the patio for the promised game of 
“blind man’s buff.” 

“Of course,” she apologized, “this is only 
a pocket handkerchief of a patio, not big and 
grand as most of them are, but we love it 
anyhow. I made the hanging baskets all 
myself, and Dicky bird is as happy as can be 
all day long.” 

And, as if to demonstrate the truth of her 
words, the pet canary proceeded to sing as 
if its throat would break with joy. 

“A patio is lovely, of course, in pleasant 


A Group of Girls 


S3 


weather,” mused Katharine, thoughtfully, 
“but I don’t believe I would like it when it 
rains.” 

“And how about it when it snows?” shiv- 
ered Alice. 

“Snows!” interrupted Dolores, amazed at 
the idea, “why, it never snows in Mexico 
City. The only snow we see is on the head 
of Popo — only once aAew flakes came flut- 
tering down, and my ! how excited we were, 
to be sure, but, Carita, hadn’t we better tell 
the girls what a pinate is, so they will know 
what to expect. They haven’t the least idea, 
and it seems like taking an unfair advan- 
tage.” 

“Perhaps so,” was the answer, “only I 
thought it would be such fun to surprise 
them,” and she pointed above them to a kind 
of earthen jar, made to represent a grotesque 
figure, which hung suspended on a cross 
beam. 


34 


Carita: Patriotic American 


“That, my dear friends, is a pinate'^ (pi’O" 
nounced pin-yah-tay). 

Lucetta and Carmen laughed. “Honestly, 
Carita, it is a particularly ugly one — where 
did you ever find it?” 

“In a funny little shop down by the Zocalo 
after mother and I searched all one after- 
noon. You see, it’s out of season — a week 
or two ago and there would have been plenty 
about. Now,” she continued, striking an at- 
titude and holding out a handkerchief, “I 
want you to understand that this extremely 
ugly figure takes the place of a Christmas 
tree in this ‘heathenish country,’ as Aunt 
Emily would say. Each one of you must 
take your turn at being blind-folded and try 
and break the jar with this stick. I posi- 
tively refuse to tell what may happen then, 
but it’s more fun than a Jack Horner’s pie, 
of that I assure you.” 

While she spoke, she was tying her hand- 



TYING HER HANDKERCHIEF ROUND ALICES E\ ES 





A Group of Girls 35 

kerchief round Alice’s eyes, and at the same 
time arming her with a long pole. “You 
have three chances, so do your best to hit 
the jar.” - ^ 

In spite of her elforts, the figure contin- 
ued to hang unharmed, and Carmen and Lu- 
cetta succeeded her, but with no better luck. 

“Now, Katharine, strike hard,” admon- 
ished Carita, and much to their delight, after 
one sure stroke, the jar fell crashing to the 
ground, its contents scattering far and wide. 

Candies and favors of all kinds rolled wildly 
in every direction, and the girls, with shrieks 
of laughter, scrambled for the prizes. 

“Do see this perfectly funny little thing !” 
cried Alice, opening a small box and exclaim- 
ing over a miniature object which Carmen 
explained was a dressed flea. 

“A dressed flea!” repeated the others, 
crowding about. “Who ever heard of a 
dressed flea?” 


36 


Carita: Patriotic American 


“The natives take no end of pains doing 
it,” went on Dolores. “It will be a rare 
treasure for your house, my dear,” and Alice 
carefully put the box away in her pocket, 
convinced that “her Tom” could never, in 
the world, guess what she was bringing him. 

“I have a skeleton,” laughed Katharine, 
while Lucetta and Carmen added to the ex- 
citement by shaking rattles made of gourds 
and blowing the oddest kind of whistles. 

How it happened no one knew, but in the 
midst of the confusion and merry making, 
Carita tripped and fell headlong on the stone 
floor of the patio. 

“Oh, what is the matter ?” 

“Are you hurt? Are you hurt?” asked 
the excited girls anxiously, as one tried to 
help her up. Carmen called Mrs. Andrews, 
Dolores ran to the telephone for the doctor, 
while Lucetta hastened for a glass of wa- 
ter. 


A Group of Girls 37 

‘‘One of the bones in the ankle is broken,” 
declared the doctor, arriving after what 
seemed an interminable time, “I am sorry 
to say. It will be at least a month before 
you can safely bear your weight on the foot.” 

“A month!” repeated the girls dismayed, 
and Carita moaned faintly, “And I so wanted 
to show the girls the sights !” 

“It can’t be helped. It is a case where it 
will be necessary to make haste slowly,” re- 
sponded the doctor gravely. 

It was a sad ending for the merry party, 
but, as Dolores said, “It might have been 
worse, and we’ll come in every single after- 
noon and tell you exactly where we’ve been 
and what we’ve seen, and you can help plan 
for the next day, so it will seem almost as 
if you were with us.” 

They had all gone, leaving Carita for- 
lornly stretched on the couch, still pale from 
the accident, and rebellious at her fate. 


38 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Suddenly she glanced at her arm — was the 
precious bracelet safe? She turned the 
band around and her heart stood still. 
What was the matter? Was it broken? 
Could she have injured it when she fell? 

A closer scrutiny revealed that the plate 
on the clasp was open, there must have been 
a hidden spring, and still more strange, be- 
neath the plate was an indistinct miniature 
of a child. 

“Mother,” she cried, “come and see ! — tell 
me, did you know the picture was in the 
bracelet ?” 

Thinking her delirious from pain and ex- 
citement, Mrs. Andrews hastened to her side. 
As Carita held out the bracelet and she saw 
the faded outlines, she was silent a moment, 
and then answered in a strangely quiet tone : 
“No, my dear, I did not know — this must 
be the child of whom your Uncle Robert 
spoke.” 


CHAPTER IV 


A NEW IDEA — PATRIOTISM 

T he girls were as good as their word, 
and not a day passed without bring- 
ing visits from one or another : some- 
times they all trooped there together, making 
the old walls ring with the account of their 
day’s adventures ; again Alice would drop in 
for a word of advice from Mrs. Andrews in 
regard to some purchase or to ask where 
she could go to arrange about the drawn- 
work lunch cloth she had so set her heart 
upon. One day she had found a Spanish 
lace collar, and, again, a beautiful embroid- 
ered shawl. At Carita’s suggestion, she 
had learned the way to the pawn shops and 
the quaint old Thieves’ Market where, among 


40 


Carita: Patriotic American 


the piles of trash she found, from time to 
time, articles of real interest and value. A 
pair of brass candlesticks to adorn the man- 
tel of the pretty apartment she and Tom had 
dreamed of; an old sugar bowl with the 
Maximilian coat of arms; a ring of quaint 
Spanish design, being among the treasures 
she displayed. 

“You see,” she used to say, “any one can 
have cut glass from Tiffany’s, but things like 
these one never sees outside of collections. 
Tom will be wild over this ring, there’s no 
knowing to whom it may have belonged.” 

There were mornings spent in the brilliant 
foreign shops that make Mexico City the 
rival of Paris; there were excursions to 
musty old churches and to the great Ca- 
thedral where Sehoras, with wonderful man- 
tillas, knelt beside peons wrapped in their 
dirty blankets. The markets, too, 'were a 
never-failing source of interest with the In- 


A New Idea — Patriotism 


41 


dians squatting on the ground, their little 
stocks spread before them. Then Kath- 
arine spent more than one forenoon in the 
National Museum where she found relics 
exactly like those she had read about, and 
made up her mind she should certainly write 
a theme on the old Aztec calendar stone. 
There were hours in the Alameda garden, 
with its velvety green lawns and semi-trop- 
ical trees, where the splendid Police band 
played the National airs : there were numer- 
ous drives in and around the capital, and 
Alice voiced the sentiment of the rest when 
she declared that the most interesting of all 
was the drive up the Paseo to Chapultepec: 
‘T don’t wonder President Diaz loves the 
castle and the park, with those old cypresses 
covered with gray moss. It’s altogether too 
picturesque for words !” 

So the days passed, and “the prisoner of 
the patio,*' as the girls called Carita, found 


42 


Carita: Patriotic American 


the hours all the more tedious because of the 
delightful time the others were enjoying. 
Had it not been for her guitar and Felipe, 
she would have been indeed, unhappy. For- 
tunately, her music proved a never-failing 
consolation. Felipe, who played himself, 
volunteered to find an instrument for her and 
succeeded in picking up a real treasure in 
a dingy pawn shop down by the Zocalo, 
for a guitar like a violin improves with 
age. 

Then, too, he had offered his services in 
teaching her to play, and many were the les- 
sons given in and between the sightseeing 
excursions. 

“It is this way and that way,’’ he would 
say, boyishly guiding her fingers over the 
frets, and would usually end by taking up 
his own instrument and singing, in his fresh 
young voice, “Oh, Mi Adorado !” or “Torea- 
dor.” 


A New Idea — Patriotism 


43 


After a little, Carita was able to play a 
few simple accompaniments and join him 
with her sweet untrained soprano. 

It was quite six weeks before she was able 
to walk without crutches, and a red-letter 
day when her mother consented to her going 
over the stairs and out to the monastery gar- 
den. 

“I’ll be very careful, mother dear, truly I 
will, but the doctor said it would be all right, 
and I do so long to get out under the trees. 
I’ll take my guitar with me and you needn’t 
worry one mite.” 

Very carefully she made her way down 
the stairs, through the great entrance door, 
and then, by a small path, round the side of 
the monastery. 

It took all her young strength to open the 
gate and, after pushing her way in, she 
stopped with an exclamation of pleasure. 
“How thick the ivy is and how many bios- 


44 Carita: Patriotic American 

soms there are on the oleander Daddy planted 
for me scarcely a year ago !” 

In the crotch of one of the trees was a 
nest with three speckled eggs; the old por- 
tero had hung a cage with a green parrot 
near the gate, while a mockingbird fluttered 
among the branches of the crape-myrtle. 

It was such a garden as would be hard 
to find outside of old Mexico ; not one of those 
trim places with straight even paths and 
carefully pruned trees, but a wild riot of 
everything unusual and beautiful, and sur- 
rounded on all sides by an adobe wall at 
least twelve feet high. • Over the wall, in 
front of the rustic seat where Carita had 
settled herself, trailed a splash of color that 
an artist would have found it difficult to 
reproduce — that was bougainvillea, while a 
heliotrope tree to her right perfumed the air 
with fragrance. 

Over her head, circling through the air, 


A New Idea — Patriotism 


45 


alighting on the wall or venturing on the 
ground, with their low love notes, were 
countless pigeons. 

Dreamily content and thinking how the 
monks, so long ago, must have loved this 
place, Carita picked up her guitar, lightly 
touching one chord and then another. 
“Hark ! what was that ?” She started at the 
slight sound — a ball bounced from the wall 
and fell at her feet. Surmising Felipe might 
be playing tennis in the nearby court, quick 
as a flash she caught it up and, having 
thrown it in the direction from which it had 
come, bent once more over her guitar and 
struck the opening strains of “La Paloma.” 
Again a ball bounded over the wall and this 
time rolled some distance away. Laying 
aside her instrument, she went in search of 
it, murmuring to herself, “I wonder if he 
suspects who is on this side of the wall,” she 
sent it after the other. 


46 


Carita: Patriotic American 


A third time it happened, and this time 
the ball disappeared in a thick tangle of 
vines. As Carita vigorously pushed aside 
the leaves with her crutch, which she had 
near in case of emergency, a head appeared 
above the wall, and a moment later no other 
than Felipe, in white tennis flannels, with a 
racquet in one hand and balls bulging from 
his pockets, jumped into the garden with a 
“Hello, there!” of genuine surprise. “It’s 
mighty jolly to see you here again. I was 
wondering who was my unknown friend — 
fact is, the tennis balls seem so bewitched this 
afternoon we’ve decided to give up our 
game.” 

As she seated herself once more on the 
rustic bench, he threw himself at her feet. 
“Now, Carita, imagine I’m Daddy and sing 
for me.” 

In answer, she tossed back her hair and, 
placing the guitar in his hands, responded. 


A New Idea — Patriotism 


47 


“Play ‘La Paloma’ for me, Felipe, there’s a 
dear, I can’t get it right. No matter how 
hard I try, I make mistakes.” 

With easy grace he struck the chords and 
sang it through, while the girl beside him 
listened with flushed face and parted lips. 

“If I only could do as well as you! I 
can’t help feeling a bit discouraged over my 
music. It isn’t going to be as easy as I 
thought to fulfill my promise to Daddy when 
he comes in June.” 

He turned quickly. “It isn’t like you to 
be discouraged. Besides, honest Injun! 
you’re doing wonderfully well. Now, you 
play while I keep time and we’ll sing to- 
gether.” 

He watched her slender fingers; this time 
she played it through without a mistake, and 
at the last note he clapped his hands. 
''Bueno! Couldn’t have done it better my- 
self.” 


48 


Carita: Patriotic American 


She laughed. “I always do well when you 
are with me. It is only when I am alone I 
feel discouraged.” 

For half an hour longer they played and 
sang together, one air after another, and 
then, as if tired, she laid down the guitar and 
they sat quietly watching the white clouds 
chasing each other over the blue Mexican 
sky, while the pigeons circled nearer, even 
lighting on her shoulder. 

It was Carita who broke the silence. “Do 
you know, I don’t believe any place in the 
world could be lovelier than this garden. 
The girls talk about the States and New 
York, but,” she was very emphatic now, “I 
am quite sure I never could like them as I 
do Mexico”; she paused, waiting for Felipe 
to reply, then went on: “Why don’t you 
answer? Surely you love it here.” 

Tossing one ball after another into the air 
and catching them on his racquet, “Yes,” he 


A New Idea — Patriotism 


49 


answered slowly, “and yet I can’t feel as 
you do. It isn’t our own country, and we 
don’t really belong here. I’m going to Har- 
vard in the fall, and, I must say, I’m mighty 
glad of it. I’m looking forward to the big 
ball games and the boat crews and fraterni- 
ties and all that sort of thing. There’s noth- 
ing here for a fellow !” 

“Of course, college is all right, but after 
you’ve got all the education you need, and all 
the fun, too, you’ll be glad enough to come 
back to dear old Mexico, won’t you, 
now ?’’ 

Again he was silent and not until she 
pressed him, did he answer. 

“Well, no, fact is I don’t believe I ever 
shall come back” — ^he spoke slowly — “al- 
though father wants me to, but, don’t you 
see, Carita, we’re foreigners here,” he made 
a gesture, “ ^gringos,’ as the peons say, and, 
some way, I can’t help the feeling that a fel- 


50 


Carita: Patriotic American 


low ought to give his best to his own coun- 
try.” 

She looked at him in amazement. “How 
strangely you talk ! Give one’s best to one’s 
country !” She was a little resentful with it 
all. “How perfectly foolish! Surely one 
has the right to live exactly where one 
pleases. I intend to have a good time in my 
life, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t come 
back to Mexico. You can’t think I ought to 
stay in the States. Everything is brand new 
and shiny there and,” she shuddered, “it’s 
cold in the winter, besides — besides, lots of 
other things I shouldn’t like.” 

He could but laugh at her dismay. “Of 
course, you have a perfect right to do as you 
wish, but you see, I am a man and I can’t 
help the feeling I have a duty to my coun- 
try.” 

She looked at him in amazement, was this 
Felipe whom she had known all her life, who 


A New Idea — Patriotism 


51 


had brought her roses on her first birthday 
and every birthday since ? 

He did not argue the matter and the con- 
versation drifted into other channels, but 
long after Felipe had leaped over the wall 
and left her alone again her mind was busy 
with the strange new thought. 

Of course one had a duty to one’s parents, 
she could understand that, but to one’s coun- 
try. How absurd ! She shrugged her 
shoulders, and yet, was that what was meant 
by patriotism? Of course, Felipe was a boy 
and looked at things differently from the 
way she did. Of this she was certain, she 
had no duty, she thought, with a flash of 
defiance, to the United States. She would 
go to school there as her father and mother 
wished and then she would come back to 
Mexico and do exactly as she wished. Her 
eyes wandered lovingly to the bougainvillea 
and the cooing pigeons. Picking up her gui- 


52 


Carita: Patriotic American 


tar, she played the Spanish Fandango: she 
had settled everything in her own mind and 
yet the thought persisted, “Could there pos- 
sibly ever come a time when she, too, might 
feel a duty to that strange country beyond 
the Rio Grande ?” 


CHAPTER V 

THE BULLFIGHT 

‘ ‘ A ND the best of it is,” exclaimed 
Carmen, “you can go with us 
from now on and weVe saved the 
mas importantes until the last !” 

They were in the sala together and Carita 
laughingly responded, “And what do you 
mean by the 'mas importantes' T* 

Carmen proceeded to count off, “There’s 
the Feast of Poppies on the Viga, that will 
be a perfectly ‘grande’ excursion, and a day 
at Guadalupe, the girls must go there. Be- 
sides” — she twirled her fan a little nervously, 
— “they ought not to miss a bull fight !” 

“A bull fight!” Carita’s tone expressed 
dismay. “The Viga and the day at Guada- 

63 


54 


Carita: Patriotic American 


lupe are all right, but Daddy never would 
hear to my going to a bull fight. Still,” she 
continued reflectively, “I’m older now.” 

“That’s one thing I told Tom I would 
surely do,” asserted Alice, highly delighted 
at the suggestion. “I think it would be per- 
fectly glorious!” 

“Mexico wouldn’t be Mexico without bull 
fights,” persisted Carmen, looking appeal- 
ingly at Mrs Andrews, “and Mama would 
chaperone.” 

“I suppose there is no real objection,” w'as 
the somewhat doubtful answer. “As you 
say, bull fighting is the national sport, al- 
though, to my mind, it is brutality itself. I 
cannot but feel sorry you proposed it.” 

“Still,” urged Dolores, “the girls are visit- 
ing and want to see all they can. It might 
be a good chance — ” 

“Mama says,” Carmen persisted, “from 
what she hears of football in the States, she 


The Bull Fight 


55 


doesn’t think it can be worse. It’s perfectly 
thrilling with the ring just packed and the 
bright dresses — to say nothing of the 
music.” 

“It would be such fun to write about it 
to Tom,” put in Alice. “What do you say, 
Felipe?” 

“It’s something to see, all right,” he re- 
sponded, “and I don’t suppose you need stay 
through it all.” 

So it was decided, Mrs. Andrews some- 
what reluctantly giving her consent. 

The girls agreed it would be a great lark, 
Lucetta alone refusing to be persuaded. 

“You can do as you like,” she said, “but 
I should be in terror every moment.” 

It is hard for a foreigner to understand 
the place the bull fight holds in Spanish coun- 
tries: it can be likened to nothing except, 
possibly, to the combats of Roman days when 
men and beasts fought in the amphitheater. 


56 


Carita: Patriotic American 


An old Spanish writer declared, “Spanish 
men are as much braver than other men as 
the Spanish bull is more savage and valiant 
than other bulls.” 

Sunday is the accepted day, and long be- 
fore the appointed time people in automo- 
biles, cabs and on foot, may be seen hasten- 
ing in the direction of the Plaza de Toros, 
as the great circular structure of stone and 
wood is called, while the street cars marked 
“Toros” are literally jammed with excited 
people. 

Carmen’s mother, though deferring in 
many ways to her husband’s opinions and 
yielding to his wish that their daughter 
should choose her friends among Americans, 
was at heart enough of a Mexican to be se- 
cretly delighted at being asked to chaperone 
and promised to call for the party in her new 
limousine. 

She could not restrain a glance of admi- 


The Bull Fight 


57 


ration at the girls from the States in their 
trim tailored skirts, dainty blouses and white 
shoes, for there is something that distin- 
guishes the “Americano” from the women 
of any other country ; then, with easy grace, 
she leaned from the car to assure Carita’s 
mother that she need not feel the slightest 
anxiety. “It will be a great experience; 
every one should see a bull fight.” 

As the car disappeared round the curve 
Mrs. Andrews sighed, “Why had she allowed 
Carita to go ? Would her husband approve ? 
And with vague misgivings she went back 
to her sewing. 

Felipe was waiting near the entrance and, 
without delay, our party passed into the am- 
phitheater. As Carmen had said, it was a 
wonderful sight: the seats rising in tiers 
from the arena nearly filled with an enthusi- 
astic crowd of anxious spectators who were 
already cheering and shouting themselves 


58 


Carita: Patriotic American 


hoarse. The bands were playing and the 
whole scene most exciting. 

Alice whispered under her breath to Ca- 
rita, ‘T do wish Tom were here!” and even 
Dolores felt a thrill. 

After a few preliminaries, there was a 
blast of trumpets, and, resplendent in silks 
and velvets, gold lace and jewels, the gay 
company of bull fighters entered and 
marched across the arena. 

Again a flourish to trumpets announced 
the beginning of the first act, and, mid tre- 
mendous applause, a bull rushed into the 
ring from a dark stall. 

Bewildered by the crowds, the music and 
the bright light, the unhappy animal pawed 
the earth, and bellowed at the capeadores 
who confronted him with their red capes. 
Meanwhile, a barbed steel hook with flowing 
ribbons, indicating the hacienda from which 
he came, was inserted in his shoulder. En- 


The Bull Fight 


59 


raged by the stinging of the hook, he was 
still further enraged and dashed frantically 
at one of the picadors who sat motionless on 
his blind-folded horse. With a toss of his 
horns, he overthrew both horse and rider. 
In another moment they would be gored to 
death. 

Suddenly, realizing the horror of what 
was to follow, Carita, her nerves tense with 
excitement, gave a glance at Carmen and her 
mother. Surely there was nothing to enjoy 
in seeing an innocent horse killed by a mad 
bull. 

They did not even notice her, so utterly 
absorbed were they in watching the ring: 
Carmen, leaning forward with parted lips, 
while her mother was actually waving her 
handkerchief and shouting '‘Bueno*' with the 
rest. 

“What can we do? We must not stay!” 
and then a sudden determination flashed 


60 


Carita: Patriotic American 


through Carita’s mind. Alice was deadly 
pale, another moment and she might faint. 
Katharine sat rigid in her terror, while Do- 
lores had covered her eyes with her hands. 
Carita caught Felipe’s attention. Ah! he 
understood and motioned to the gate. She 
rose resolutely, gathering up her parasol and 
fan. Three horses had been killed, the first 
act was over, and the audience cheering 
madly. Now was the time, if ever, to make 
their escape. 

“Girls,” she whispered in short discon- 
nected sentences, “this is no place for us! 
we must go. Mother was right, we should 
never have come ! it’s wicked, it’s brutal ! and 
the next act will be even worse! Quick, 
there’s the trumpet again !” 

Without a word, the four girls followed 
Felipe, as he led the way through the mad 
people to the nearest exit. Only once Carita 
looked back. Carmen was still gazing at 


The Bull Fight 61 

the arena, her eyes bright with excitement, 
and her mother was evidently complacently 
discussing the fact that four bulls were to 
be sacrificed as a feature of the next act. 

A revulsion of feeling swept over Carita; 
Carmen and her mother must be made of 
different stuff. At that moment she longed 
more for her mother and father than she had 
ever done before. 

“Oh, Daddy!” she murmured under her 
breath, “you didn’t want me to come. 
Whatever made me do it?” 

Once fairly outside, they all felt better. 
There was plenty of room in the street cars ; 
in fact they were the only occupants. Fe- 
lipe was very quiet — ^he should not have per- 
mitted them to go. He liked clean, manly 
sport as well as any one, but this killing of 
innocent animals! “Ugh!” he vowed he 
would never again be induced to witness a 
bull fight. 


62 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Carmen and her mother drove over that 
evening. They were “Mortified they had 
been so remiss; they would have left with 
the girls, but did not realize until too late, 
but it was really too bad they did not stay. 
It was ‘bueno! hueno!’ truly a great occasion. 
Four bulls killed, and so brave a matador.” 

She noticed the look of horror that passed 
over Carita’s face. “Ah ! a moment’s faint- 
ness ! but it soon passes. Quien sahef and 
she shrugged her shoulders. 

After they had gone, Carita turned to her 
mother. '‘Mi madre, there are some things 
I don’t like about Mexico, and I am glad the 
picnic on the Viga won’t be so exciting.” 
Then, very softly, as she touched her moth- 
er’s hair with her lips, “And, Mother, I think 
you and Daddy know best about,” she paused, 
“almost everything. Some way I can’t help 
thinking Mexicans are different from Amer- 
icans, and the girls say the football games 


The Bull Fight 


63 


in the States are not anything like a bull 
fight.” She shivered at the recollection of 
the horses and the fierce bulls. 

“My dear,” said her mother, as she kissed 
her little daughter’s sensitive lips, “by the 
time you are a little older you will under- 
stand why I think there is no place like the 
United States.” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE JOLLY PICNIC 

“T’VE been wondering,” began Kath- 

I arine, as she and Dolores sat together 
one morning busily embroidering the 
" collars of the middies they were planning to 
wear to the picnic. “I’ve been wondering 
what the Viga is — a picnic there sounds so 
altogether delightful.” 

“Do you mean to say you have been in 
Mexico nearly four months and haven’t yet 
been told that the Viga is the historic old 
waterway by which Cortez is supposed to 
have entered the city? At present it is 
chiefly famous because of the market gar- 
dens along its sides.” 

Dolores stopped to take an extra stitch, 

64 


The Jolly Picnic 65 

then went on, for the Feast of Poppies, 
that’s a flower festival that takes place in 
honor of an old Aztec god. It’s one of the 
sights of Mexico to watch the flower-laden 
boats passing up and down the canal.” 

“I should say it was,” interrupted Carita, 
who was just then ushered into the room, 
"‘and the flo-ating gardens ! they’re too fasci- 
nating for words, not that they really float 
now, only kind of wobble, you know, but 
they say the natives made them of branches 
and earth and that they really used to float 
about at the convenience of the people, a 
rather nice arrangement, it seems to me, but 
— to change to a more important subject — 
Dolores dear, do you suppose your mother 
would make us some lemon tarts? My 
mouth waters every time I think of them, 
and they would be so nice for our picnic 
lunch.” 

“Of course she will, and anything else you 


66 


Carita: Patriotic American 


suggest. Carmen has promised the dulces/^ 

“Fine! I’ll make some peanut butter 
sandwiches, and furnish the olives. We 
must be sure to have plenty because there 
will be ten of us.” 

“Ten!” repeated Dolores. “I can count 
but eight. Your mother, Felipe, and we six 
girls.” 

“Oh, but — ” and Carita nodded her head 
mysteriously. 

“But what? you can’t mean — 

“Oh, but I do. It’s true as true can be. 
Carlos and Henrique are both in town and 
will be delighted to go with us. Isn’t it 
lucky ?” 

Bueno r and Carita went on to explain 
for Katharine’s benefit that Henrique and 
Carlos were two American boys who lived 
in Chihuahua at the mines, and occasionally 
came to the city. “And,” she continued im- 
pressively, “I want you to understand Hen- 


The Jolly Picnic 67 

rique graduated from the school of mines at 
Cornell, last summer, and Carlos goes to 
Harvard with Felipe in the fall. But I must 
be off, I only stopped in to see if the lunch 
was all right and to tell you about the boys — 
Adiosr 

It was a gay company that assembled at 
the Zocalo next morning en route to the 
Viga, as might have been guessed from the 
mysterious bulging parcels the boys were al- 
lowed to carry. The girls were in fresh 
middies, with bright sweaters on their arms, 
the boys in white suits and straw sailor hats. 

Henrique and Carlos were straight limbed 
young fellows, both of them slightly heavier 
than Felipe ; Carlos had black hair and eyes, 
while Henrique was fair, with a mop of curly 
hair which would make itself evident, no 
matter how closely it was cut. Laughing 
and chatting easily over the countless noth- 
ings that so interest young people, they 


68 


Carita: Patriotic American 


boarded the old-fashioned mule cars that 
were to take them to the head of the canal 
where they found people already gathering 
in cabs and automobiles. 

The canal was thick with flat boats, large 
and small, poled along by dusky natives — 
some piled high with fruits and vegetables, 
but the greater number were filled to over- 
flowing with flowers of all kinds. It could 
easily be understood why this was the Feast 
of Poppies for, as Alice excitedly exclaimed, 
grabbing Carita’s arm, “I never saw so 
many poppies in all my life !” 

There were Indian girls with wreaths of 
the brightly colored flowers on their heads, 
and garlands thrown about their necks, sing- 
ing, playing and dancing with a grace all 
their own, as their boats threaded their way 
in and out among the other craft. 

Katharine gave a cry of pleasure, and 
Mrs. Andrews exclaimed, “This is a typical 


The Jolly Picnic 


69 


Mexican scene, with a suggestion of Venice! 
A slight stretch of the imagination and you 
can imagine these mud scows are gondolas, 
and the fellows poling them real true gondo- 
liers. Hark !” and, as she spoke, the strains 
of a guitar floated over the water, adding 
the charm of native music to the picturesque 
scene. 

It seemed an endless procession of nonde- 
script craft : narrow row boats by the dozen ; 
canoes hollowed out of the trunks of trees. 
Oftentimes a woman would be the sole oc- 
cupant of a flower-laden scow, or a whole 
family would pass, joining in a happy chorus, 
from the cooing of a black-eyed baby to the 
light laughter of brothers and sisters. 

Finally three flat boats, covered by a kind 
of rude awning, stopped close to our party, 
and one of the Indians, removing his big hat 
out of respect, signified to Felipe, in broken 
English, that the boats were at the disposal 


70 


Carita: Patriotic American 


of the Senor and, with much fun and laugh- 
ter, the members of our party stepped on 
board and joined the strange procession on 
the canal. 

do wish some of the boys and girls at 
home could see us now!” meditatively ob- 
served Katharine, lazily dabbling her hands 
in the transparent water as they left the 
crowd behind them and slowly made their 
way through beds of water lilies, while the 
dark-skinned natives of other boats threw 
whole handfuls of poppies and other flowers, 
until they were literally almost deluged. 

After a little they began to skirt along the 
shores of Xochimolco, as the Indians call the 
floating islands, and could almost touch 
the poppies and lilies blooming on their 
shores. 

Finally the boats were anchored and they 
went ashore for their luncheon. It was in- 
deed a perfect place for a picnic; the canal 




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The Jolly Picnic 71 

on one side, with its willow-bordered banks, 
Popo and the White Lady in the distance, 
their outlines clear against the distant sky, 
while here and there could be seen the oddest 
of native huts made of bamboo and thatched 
with palm leaves. '‘Exactly as they must 
have looked,” exclaimed Carita, calling the 
attention of the others, "when Cortez dis- 
covered it all so many hundreds of years 
ago!” 

But they were hungry as wolves, and the 
boys hurried away to get branches and twigs 
for a fire, while the girls busied themselves 
spreading the white tablecloth on the ground 
and unpacking the boxes. 

Carlos had disappeared the moment they 
landed, and the fire was already crackling 
when Carmen spied him coming through the 
distant trees. 

It was quite evident he had a surprise for 
them, for he kept his hands behind his back. 


72 


Carita: Patriotic American 


and when Henrique pressed him as to where 
he had been he replied mysteriously, 
‘‘Guess ! It’s my contribution to the picnic.” 

“Potatoes to cook in the ashes,” suggested 
Alice, promptly remembering picnics of 
other times and other places. 

“ W rong ! T ry again.” 

“Fresh water to drink,” suggested Car- 
men, and when he had emphatically said, 
“No” to this, too, Carita cried gayly, “I 
know, it’s a string of fish,” and they gathered 
around him as he proudly displayed “his 
catch.” 

The fish were soon fried to a delicious 
brown, the coffee made, and the party, with 
the “hugest of appetites,” to quote Felipe, 
“set to.” 

Sandwiches, Saratoga potatoes, lemon 
tarts, all disappeared in a most astonishing 
manner. Then lunch was cleared away and 
the boys and girls disposed themselves as 


The Jolly Picnic 


73 


comfortably as they could to while away the 
hours of the afternoon. 

Katharine and Felipe started off for a 
walk in the direction of the native homes, 
while Carmen and Carlos wandered along 
the shores of the canal until they were out 
of sight. The others, with Henrique, were 
quite content under one of the old trees, 
while Mrs. Andrews, a little removed from 
them, was soon deep in a favorite book. 

After a while Alice began meditatively, 
^‘Carita, I begin to understand why you love 
Mexico. This old canal fairly has bewitched 
me.” 

Flushing with pleasure, as she always did 
when Mexico was praised, Carita was about 
to reply when Alice went on slowly, “Only 
I don’t believe I could be satisfied here all 
the time. You’ve no idea what the life is in 
the States, especially in the winter. It’s one 
round of opera and theater, besides clubs 


74 


Carita: Patriotic American 


and charities and social settlement work. 
After I’m married I suppose it will be still 
worse, because Tom wants me to keep up 
my music and everything else. It’s very 
different, I assure you, from this land of 
mahana.” 

‘That’s true enough,” put in Henrique, 
as he lazily stretched himself at the foot of 
the tree, “although Mexico’s waking up and 
no mistake. It is the Americans, too, that 
are making her sit up and take notice. You 
won’t know the land of mahana if it keeps 
up. No wonder Diaz favors the Americans. 
I’m glad I had my four years at Cornell, 
but, after all, Mexico is the land of possi- 
bilities.” 

Carita looked round triumphantly, Kath- 
arine and Felipe were just within earshot. 
She was glad to have Felipe know that every 
one did not share his opinions. Before he 
could express himself, Katharine turned the 


The Jolly Picnic 


75 


conversation by asserting very positively, 
“My ambition is to go to college first and 
then take up some line of work that is really 
worth while.” 

Carita was amazed. “Go to college? I 
never thought of that, and what do you 
mean by something worth while?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” was the careless re- 
joinder ; “there are so many things for girls 
to do nowadays it will be hard to decide.” 

Carita pondered over her answer. She 
had never thought of college, although she 
was easily head in the little class of a dozen 
girls held in a building adjoining the old 
monastery. When her mother spoke of edu- 
cation in the States, she had taken for 
granted it would be some school where she 
would perhaps study French and art and 
keep up her music. “College !” and yet, why 
shouldn’t she go to college and do something 
worth while as other girls did? 


76 


Carita: Patriotic American 


She knitted her brows thoughtfully. Go- 
ing to America to be educated might prove 
more interesting than she thought. Her 
face cleared suddenly. She would talk it 
all over with Daddy when he came home. 

But the long afternoon was passing — it 
was almost time for supper, and after that 
was eaten they called the silent Indians to 
pole them up the canal. If the Viga had 
been beautiful in the morning, with all the 
local light and color, it was far more so in 
the moonlight, now that the crowds had dis- 
persed, and the willows along the shores 
were casting strange shadows on the water. 
Instead of the strains of the guitar, the air 
rang with songs so dear to young American 
hearts, from “My Old Kentucky Home” and 
“Annie Laurie” to “Merrily We Roll Along” 
and “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” 

It was the first time Carita had been on 


77 


The Jolly Picnic 

just that kind of a jolly picnic and she en- 
joyed it all immensely. Tired as she was, 
after they reached home she slipped on her 
kimono and went into her mother’s room to 
talk it all over. Curling up in her mother’s 
big chair, she reflected happily, ‘T don’t be- 
lieve there ever, in all the world, could be a 
nicer crowd than we had to-day.” She 
laughed aloud. “And didn’t we make the 
old Viga ring with those college songs ? I’m 
going to learn every one of them on my gui- 
tar. Henrique said he would send me his 
book,” and she began humming happily, 

“ ‘The Owl and the Pussy Cat went to sea 
In a beautiful pea-green boat; 

They took some honey and plenty of money 
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.’ 

“Although, after all, I think I prefer the 
one about the miller’s big dog. I laughed 
until I cried the way Carlos brought out 
I— N— G— O.’ ” 


78 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Mrs. Andrews smiled at the young girl’s 
enthusiasm. She, too, had enjoyed the day, 
and quite agreed with Carita in her esti- 
mate of the young people, but she pointed 
warningly to the clock, ‘‘Not much time for 
beauty sleep unless you hurry to bed,” and, 
with a laugh, and sigh because the day was 
over, Carita slipped away. 


CHAPTER VII 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 

O NCE Upon a time, the story goes, as 
Juan, a poor Indian, was climbing 
the steep hill of Guadalupe on his 
way to mass, he was startled by the singing 
of the angels, and the Virgin Mary appeared 
in a vision, bidding him go to the bishop and 
ask that a shrine be built to her upon that 
spot. 

The bishop refused to believe Juan’s story 
unless he could bring some proof of the di- 
vine appearance and, much disappointed, the 
Indian returned to the hill. Again the Vir- 
gin came, this time bidding him fill his man- 
tle, or tilma, with flowers which, even as she 
spoke, bloomed upon the barren hillside. 
79 


80 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Hastening to the bishop and opening his 
tilma, what was Juan’s surprise to find a pic- 
ture of the Virgin upon the coarse cloth? 
Then, indeed, was the bishop convinced, and 
falling upon his knees, declared a chapel 
should at once be erected on the hill, and the 
sacred likeness enshrined there in a frame of 
gold. 

Such is the legend of Guadalupe, the fa- 
vorite place of pilgrimage for all pious In- 
dians, the present church having been erected 
in 1835 at a cost of over two million dollars. 
It is a handsome structure, and, to its right, 
a chapel has been built over the spring which, 
according to tradition, gushed from the 
ground where the Virgin stood. Beginning 
at the church, a flight of steps leads to a 
shrine at the top of the hill and, on Guada- 
lupe day, the steps are black with pious In- 
dians making the ascent on hands and knees. 
Half way up, attention is arrested by two 


An Exciting Experience 81 

picturesque stone sails, placed there by some 
sailors in honor to the Virgin who, they be- 
lieve, saved them from shipwreck. 

“But, mi madre” urged Carita, “I have 
scarcely worn my bracelet at all, and I do so 
want to because” — here her voice became 
pleading — “because I might happen on some 
one who has its mate and, besides, it’s so 
pretty, I like to wear it. Please, mi madre’* 
Her mother hesitated, thinking it not the 
thing for a young girl to wear so valuable a 
piece of jewelry in public places, but Carita 
went on, “No one will see it, for I will keep 
it way up on my arm under my sleeve. No 
one will know I have it on.” 

So it happened Carita wore her bracelet 
the day they went to Guadalupe. There 
were two automobiles to take the ten of 
them, Henrique and Carlos being still in 
the city, having decided to stay over the 
Fourth : Felipe drove one car and Carmen’s 


82 


Carita: Patriotic American 


mother sent her limousine with her careful 
chauffeur. It is not a pleasant ride to Guad- 
alupe, through the slums of the city, but, once 
there, it is most interesting; the plaza lined 
with booths where everything imaginable is 
offered for sale, from tamales and pulque to 
postcards of the tilma and candles to burn 
before the sacred shrine, while a touch of the 
modern is added by the cheapest of cheap 
phonographs, and a pianola turning out tunes 
for a wheezing merry-go-round. 

As they left the automobiles and started 
up the walk to the church, Alice shuddered 
at the dirty peon families encamped in the 
enclosure, and Carita looked to be sure her 
bracelet was well under her sleeve. She 
was almost sorry she had worn it, for there 
would be no chance in a place like this of 
meeting any long lost relative. 

The church was unusually full, for besides 
some Indian worshipers there was a crowd 


83 


An Exciting Experience 

of tourists with friends from the city and 
accompanied by loud-voiced guides. At an 
altar in one corner mass was being said, while 
candles blazed on the great altar, and the air 
was heavy with incense. 

They had spent some time looking at the 
queer relics, studying the frescoes portray- 
ing the history of Guadalupe, and admiring 
the gorgeous jeweled crown that hung over 
the rude painting on the tilma. 

Then Mrs. Andrews, with Carmen, Do- 
lores and Henrique, decided to go back to the 
city, leaving Carita to follow a little later 
with the others. Felipe and Katharine were 
in the chapel outside, while Carlos, Alice and 
Carita still lingered in the church. 

Suddenly Carita started. Standing at one 
end of t?ie silver chancel rail was a woman 
with a broad band of gold on her left arm. 
Could it be the other bracelet? quick as a 
flash the thought came to Carita's mind. 


84 


Carita: Patriotic American 


At any rate she must find out. The woman 
had already disappeared in the crowd. 
Without a word, Carita slipped away from 
the others, pushing and elbowing her way 
with the greatest difficulty. So excited was 
she that she entirely forgot she had not told 
of her intention to return to the city in Fe- 
lipe’s automobile. 

There! there! was the woman! She had 
stopped before the confessional. On she 
pressed — she was by her side. The woman 
raised her arm, and then the disappointment. 
She wore a band of gold, to be sure, but it 
was not chased and the bracelet was set with 
a diamond, not an opal. Then, for the first 
time, she began to wonder if, after all, the 
person she had followed was the kind her 
mother would care to claim as a relative. 

She gave a frightened look at the clock. 
How late it was ! Seeing nothing of Alice 
and Carlos, she hurried into the plaza. 


An Exciting Experience 


85 


There was no trace of any one she knew. 
They had gone and she was left behind. 
What would she do ? She had never been in 
the street cars in that part of the city, and 
she shrank from attempting to reach home 
in that way. 

Much frightened, she went back into the 
Cathedral to think it all over. It was almost 
empty now, the crowd of tourists having dis- 
persed. 

After aimlessly wandering about, she 
came back to the altar, where she stood be- 
fore the sacred painting of the Virgin. 

Suddenly she started as a voice sounded 
close to her ears, a voice intended to be in- 
gratiating in its soft accents, but carrying 
with it an intimation that made her shrink. 

"‘La signorita,” it began, 'da senorita is 
lost, is it not so? Quien sabef I will take 
the senorita to her friends.” 

She looked around. A well-dressed Mex- 


86 


Carita: Patriotic American 


ican stood beside her. Should she trust 
him? She hesitated. 

Again he pressed her, repeating in almost 
caressing accents, “If la senorita will give 
me the bracelet I will take her to her 
friends.” 

Now she saw it all, it was that he 
wanted ; she glanced at her arm, the bracelet 
had slipped below her sleeve and was in full 
view. “Oh, Daddy, Daddy,” escaped from 
her half-paralyzed lips; and he was coming 
home the very next day. Was there no 
escape ? Helplessly she looked from one side 
to another, feeling like a trapped bird, beat- 
ing her wings in vain. 

Suddenly she drew herself up to her full 
height, her eyes blazing. “I will give you 
nothing. I can find the way myself. You 
have no right, you — you — ” She paused, 
trembling. 

His tone became threatening. “Perhaps, 



SHE DREW HERSELF UP TO HER FULL HEIGHT, HER E\ ES 

BLAZING ” 



An Exciting Experience 


87 


quien sahef It might be best — it might even 
be — the signorita,” he stopped, giving a quick 
gesture, and, for the first time, Carita noticed 
the presence of another man, stealing quietly 
toward them. 

Ah! she understood the whole vile plot. 
They would seize her and hold her for a 
ransom. She had heard of people doing 
that. In agony, she glanced up at the sacred 
tilma. She understood now the feeling that 
actuated the pilgrims to kneel before the 
shrine. 

And then the miracle! The heavy outer 
door swung slowly open, and, oh, joy! Fe- 
lipe entered. At a glance he took in the situ- 
ation, and, walking rapidly across the church, 
he was at Carita’s side before either of the 
men became aware of his presence. With 
one blow from his young athletic fist (he had 
not had his training in the gymnasium for 
nothing), he hurled back the Mexicans, mut- 


88 


Carita: Patriotic American 


taring between clenched teeth, “Cowards! 
dogs! go! or Fll have you both in Belem 
within an hour/’ 

Without a word the men slunk back and, 
in less time than it takes to tell it, were out 
of the Cathedral, leaving Carita, half crying, 
half laughing, on Felipe’s shoulder. 

“Felipe, Felipe! how did you know I was 
here? Those dreadful men ! , What would 
I have done if you had not come?” 

He shuddered, as he answered gently, “It 
was only a chance we came, for we were well 
on our way home when Katharine discov- 
ered she had lost her purse and I turned back 
to find it. The others are outside in the car. 
I came in to look for the purse, but, Carita, 
why didn’t you tell me you were going back 
with us?” 

“Oh, oh !” she moaned, “I meant to, but I 
forgot everything, you see, when I thought 
I had found the other bracelet, and I hadn’t. 


An Exciting Experience 89 

after all, and then it was too late, for you had 
gone. If I only hadn’t worn it !” 

“But what do you mean by the other brace- 
let?” he pursued, thinking she was half 
crazed by her fright, at the same time lead- 
ing her to a stone bench near by. “And 
what should you not have worn? I don’t 
understand at all.” 

“Why, Felipe, haven’t I ever told you 
about my birthday bracelet?” and, incoher- 
ently, she poured out the story, at the same 
time taking the bracelet off and handing it to 
him. 

“Now, I understand. It was this the 
scoundrelly fellows were after. It was lucky 
I came when I did, and, Carita, I’m sure you 
ought not to wear such a thing as this on the 
street. It must be worth any amount.” 

She was crying now, the tears rolling down 
her cheeks as she sobbed how she had longed 
for a sister or a cousin, and she was very 


90 


Carita: Patriotic American 


positive now, in the midst of her tears, “Some 
time I shall find the other bracelet.” 

Felipe was all tenderness, and feeling de- 
cidedly grown up of a sudden as he assured 
her with the greatest earnestness that he 
would help her in every possible way. ‘‘But, 
until we do find this wonderful person for 
whom you are looking, you’ll just have to 
pretend I’m your brother or cousin or any 
old relative you want.” 

She was laughing gayly now. “Felipe, 
you’re a dear, and I’ll do that very thing.” 
Her face clouded for a moment. “And, Fe- 
lipe, we won’t tell, will we? I mean about 
those awful men and how they wanted my 
bracelet?” 

“Not on my heart!” was the ready re- 
sponse, but his blue eyes softened and his 
hand trembled a little as he pushed upon the 
heavy door and they went out together into 
the bright sunshine. 


An Exciting Experience 91 

At the entrance they met Katharine, who 
was amazed at seeing Carita with Felipe. 
^‘Of all things ! Where did you come from? 
I thought you went back with your mother. 
Goodness me, how pale you both are ! Ca- 
rita, you’re honestly as white as a ghost; 
whatever is the matter?” 

‘‘Nothing at all,” answered Felipe, with an 
effort to speak carelessly. “There was some 
mistake and Carita stayed behind to ride 
back with us, only we didn’t know about it. 
It’s a good thing we came back. But, tell 
me, did you find your purse?” 

Katharine laughed. “Oh, yes, I found 
the purse all right, only there wasn’t a thing 
in it — turned inside out and lying on the edge 
of the walk. There were five perfectly good 
Mexican dollars in it, but,” she added resign- 
edly, “there is no use crying over spilled 
milk, and since we found Carita it is quite all 
right.” 


92 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Laughing and chatting, they climbed into 
the car and were quickly speeding back to 
the city, while Carita soon felt the disagree- 
able experience was almost, if not quite, for- 
gotten. 


CHAPTER VIII 


DADDY 

T he next morning Carita awoke a full 
hour before the usual time; as she 
rubbed her drowsy eyes she couldn’t 
for a moment think what was going to hap- 
pen, and then, of a sudden, she remembered. 
Daddy was coming home. 

With a spring she was out of bed and 
hurriedly pulling on her clothes. 

Yes, he would be home that very after- 
noon, and there was much to be done: she 
began counting off the things on her fingers : 
first, there was his den to put in order. She 
always did that herself because, when her 
father was away, it was she who held pos- 
session of it. Then there was her dress to 


93 


94 


Carita: Patriotic American 


mend, the pretty white voile her father liked, 
and which she had torn the last time she 
wore it and had forgotten to mend, although 
her mother had reminded her over and over 
again. 

Just then the thought of her experience at 
Guadalupe caused her to shiver, but she put 
it out of her mind with the determination 
that she would think of nothing disagreeable 
that day. ‘‘Then,” she mused, “after every- 
thing else is done, I must practice over every 
single piece I have learned on my guitar,” 
and she began gayly humming one tune and 
then another. 

“What, little daughter, up so early?” 
called her mother, looking in at the 
door. 

“Yes, Mama, buenos dias, I simply couldn’t 
lie a-bed when Daddy was coming. How 
long do you suppose he will stay?” 

“Two or three months, I hope,” was her 


Daddy 95 

mother’s response. “It will be at least that 
before the sugar grinding begins, but break- 
fast is ready, so don’t delay,” and, with a 
face like a rose, Carita half walked, half 
danced her way into the dining-room. 

The morning passed quickly enough; and 
by two o’clock everything was arranged, even 
to the vase of flowers on her father’s desk. 
She looked around with a sigh of satisfac- 
tion. “It’s all ready for him, mi madre — 
the magazines just where he likes to have 
them, and the book he was reading when he 
went away with the bookmark in all right; 
besides,” she stooped over to look at the tiny 
charcoal stove, “it’s ready to light. Poor 
Daddy always feels so cold when he first 
comes home from the hot lands.” 

An hour later, dressed in the dainty white 
voile, she was restlessly playing on her gui- 
tar. How the time dragged! She glanced 
every few moments at the clock and at last 


96 


Carita: Patriotic American 


abandoned her guitar altogether, going out 
on the balcony to watch for him. 

There were ever so many cabs passing, 
one after another, and at least six times she 
was sure one was going to stop at the monas- 
tery, only to be disappointed. 

Suddenly she leaned forward eagerly. 
“Oh, mummy, mummy, quick! here he is 
now!” and she had left the balcony and 
flown down the old stairs before her mother 
could answer. 

And it WAS Daddy; her great, splendid 
Daddy, all bronzed up by the hot sun. As 
they came up the steps together, his arm 
around her waist, for the first time Mrs. 
Andrews could not but notice the strong re- 
semblance between the tall athletic man and 
the slender girl of fifteen. 

It would be hard to tell of the days that 
followed; it seemed as if Carita could 
scarcely bear to have her father out of her 


Daddy 


97 


sight ; she never tired of hearing his stories 
of his life on the hig hacienda (where they 
ground thousands and thousands of tons of 
sugar cane each year). Then there were 
walks, arm in arm, in the Alameda gardens ; 
there were drives up the Paseo and, best of 
all, the evenings when they all three sat to- 
gether in the cozy den, and the tiny charcoal 
fire did its best to keep “the shivers off,” as 
Carita expressed it. 

It seemed as if she had never had so much 
to tell him before; all about the girls and 
Felipe. 

He was interested in everything, often in- 
terrupting to tell her how tall she was or 
how grown up she seemed. He made no 
comments when he learned she had gone to a 
bull fight, but looked more than grave when, 
one evening, she told him of the scoundrelly 
fellows at Guadalupe, for she simply couldn’t 
keep a secret from Daddy. 


98 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Almost fiercely his hand tightened on her 
shoulder as he forced himself to reply 
calmly, “My little Carita was plucky in- 
deed, but she must be careful never to wan- 
der off alone again, and, promise me,” here 
he had bent her head back, looking full into 
her honest black eyes, “never, never to fol- 
low strange people. I tremble to think what 
might have happened if Felipe had not come 
back.” 

“Yes, Daddy, I promise,” was the earnest 
response; “and, oh, I almost forgot to tell 
you how red my opal was all the time I was 
in the church. It seemed like fire, and now, 
see, how soft and pretty it is to-night. But, 
now. Daddy dear, let’s forget all about those 
awful men, while I play and sing to you,” 
and she struck the opening chords of a Mexi- 
can love song, drifting from that to “Dixie” 
and “Home, Sweet Home,” until the tears 
started from the big man’s eyes. 


Daddy 


99 


It was very precious to him, this bit of 
home, after all the weary months so far 
away, and his voice was almost pathetic as 
he stroked the soft hair, saying, ‘‘My little 
daughter can never know how lonely her fa- 
ther is away off from civilization. If it 
wasn’t for the thoughts of your mother and 
you, life wouldn’t be worth living.” 

“But, I do know,” she nodded her head as 
if she quite understood, “I do know because, 
you see, we’re lonely, too. We talk of you 
all the time and wish you were here. You 
can’t think how we miss you.” They sat 
quietly for a while and then she broke out: 
“And, Daddy dear, what do you think ? I’ve 
almost made up my mind to go to college and, 
after that,” she hesitated, “do something 
worth while.” 

He threw back his head, laughing heartily. 
“The idea of going to college is all right. I 
quite approve of that — ^but, what do you 


100 


Carita: Patriotic American 


mean by doing something worth while ? Tell 
me, who has been putting ideas like that into 
your head? As if it isn’t worth while for 
you to simply live in the world without trou- 
bling yourself about anything else. Come, 
explain yourself.” 

“I don’t quite know, but Katharine says 
there are so many things girls do nowadays 
it’s hard to choose, and, honestly, I don’t see,” 
she was playing with the buttons on his coat, 
twisting them nervously with her fingers, 
“why I shouldn’t do as much as other girls, 
do you. Daddy dear?” 

His voice softened as he saw how very 
much in earnest she was and he answered 
very gently, “That’s true enough, but my 
little girl must realize that, after all, she can 
do nothing as worth while as to make sun- 
shine for her father and mother. Why, 
girlie, there won’t be any sun when you are 
away ofif in the States being educated. We 


Daddy 


101 


shall count the days until you come back. 
Thank fortune, that time is nearly two years 
off. We musn’t think about it now but just 
settle down to having a good time together 
while I am home.” She smiled happily. 

‘T’m glad you’re here, Daddy, to take us 
around to all the churches Easter week. 
You see,” she choked a little, “after that 
experience at Guadalupe I would be afraid to 
go without you, and the girls must see every 
single thing, even to the burning of Judas 
the night before. I do wonder what they 
will think of all the fiestas.” 

They sat so long planning what they would 
do and where they would take the girls that 
Mr. Andrews was surprised, on looking at 
his watch, to find how late it was and hus- 
tled Carita off to bed without further cere- 
mony. 

It was nice, just as Carita had said, to 
have Daddy for escort, for he made it his 


102 


Carita: Patriotic American 


special care to see that they did not miss a 
single thing, and next to being in Rome at 
that time is the experience of being in the 
City of Mexico. First there was the inter- 
esting spectacle on Palm Sunday in the Ca- 
thedral when the crowds of peons holding 
the long palm branches congregated and 
knelt to have the branches blessed. 

The whole week before Easter every 
church in the city was draped in black, and 
only the most mournful of funeral marches 
were played on the organ; but on Easter 
Sunday Alice declared she should never for- 
get the wonderful hymns of praise and tri- 
umph that resounded through the great 
chapels. The somber black crepe that had 
wound the columns and wreathed the altars 
had all disappeared and given place to banks 
of flowers. Daddy took them everywhere, 
even waiting patiently by the booths near the 
Alameda while they made their purchases, 


Daddy 


103 


from miniature Judases to funny skeletons. 
The flower market, always wonderful, was 
“glorious” Katharine declared as she came 
home one morning literally loaded with a 
wealth of lilies and roses. 

“And they’re not raised in hot houses 
either,” cried Alice, burying her nose in the 
fragrant mass. “Isn’t Mexico a paradise 
of flowers? I just wish the people in New 
York could see them. All the flowers in all 
the churches there, massed together, couldn’t 
begin to equal the ones we saw in front of 
the high altar.” 

Katharine seemed much impressed with 
the symbolism all around her in this Catholic 
country. While the others laughed a little 
when they chanced upon the ceremony of 
washing the feet of the disciples she was 
quite indignant and declared vehemently: 
“I don’t see a single thing to laugh at; to 
me it’s beautiful to carry out the Savior’s 


104 Carita: Patriotic American 


ideas, though Fm neither Indian nor Cath- 
olic. And I think it is the finest thing in 
the world to see the way the poorest and most 
miserable beggar acts as if he had a per- 
sonal ownership in the Cathedral. I counted 
fourteen families eating their lunch in the 
Cathedral yard, and you could see they acted 
as if they really belonged there.” 

When Easter was finally over, they were 
all, as Alice expressed it, “perfectly fraz- 
zled out” and ready to take things easy for 
a while. But every day brought some new 
interest, and the next few weeks glided 
swiftly by. 

One evening, when Carita and her father 
were having a cozy chat together, he sud- 
denly surprised her by saying, “I don’t be- 
lieve you can possibly guess, sweetheart, thje 
plan I have in my mind?” 

At that she looked very wise and asked 
for three chances. Laughingly he con- 


Daddy 105 

sented, and she buried her face in her hands 
for nearly five minutes but then gave up. 
“Daddy, dear, I’ll take it all back and con- 
fess I haven’t the faintest idea what you 
have in your head. It seems to me we’ve 
done everything that I can possibly think 
of.” 

“Well, then, it’s just this. Do you re- 
member, once upon a time, when you were 
a wee bit of a girl, your mother and I took 
you to Cuernavaca?” 

“Yes,” she interrupted, “after I had had 
my tonsils out and we went to a hotel with 
a great big patio, full of all kinds of trees, 
besides a roof garden where we used to watch 
the sunset.” 

“That’s the very place,” he responded. 
“How well you remember.” 

“Has it anything to do with Cuernavaca ?” 
she resumed. 

“It just has,” and he smiled at her de- 


106 


Carita: Patriotic American 


light. ‘‘The fact is, I have a friend who 
owns one of the old houses there. He is 
going with his family to the States for four 
months and has asked us to occupy the house 
while they are away.” 

“Oh, Daddy, Daddy !” her eyes were shin- 
ing with joy as she clapped her hands, “how 
perfectly glorious! Tell me, when are we 
going?” 

“Soon after the Fourth. We musn’t miss 
the celebration at the Tivoli Gardens. That, 
too, will give me time to attend to business 
here, while you and mother think over what 
you want to take with you. Of course, we 
shall not give up our vivienda here.” 

“It’s all too good to be true”; Carita 
paused, as if overwhelmed with ecstasy, 
“and tell me. Papa, may I have a house party 
and ask the girls? Why, I’m sure they 
never could imagine such a perfect story- 
book place as Cuernavaca is.” 


Daddy 


107 


At his answer, “Yes, yes, of course, any- 
thing you wish,” she threw both arms around 
his neck, hugging him until he cried for 
mercy. 


CHAPTER IX 


BEHIND CLOSED DOORS 

T he day the drawn-work was to be 
finished Alice decided to go for it 
herself. So she and her sister 
stopped for Carita and the three set out for 
the funny little adobe hut where Giulia lived 
with her sightless old grandmother. They 
knew the way perfectly, for this was only 
the last of many trips. Leaving the car at 
the Cathedral they turned down a narrow 
side street and in about fifteen minutes came 
within sight of Giulia herself, sitting in her 
doorway bending over her drawn-work 
frame. 

''Buenos Dias'' they called in a chorus, 
and "Buenos Dias" was the answer as the 


Behind Closed Doors 


109 


little maid looked up from the work upon 
which she was so intent, to wave a greeting 
to her friends. 

As they stood beside her, watching the pa- 
tient fingers carefully weaving in and out 
the delicate threads, the cobwebby gossamer 
piece of linen seemed strangely incongruous 
with the rude surroundings. The room 
within was in semi-darkness with only the 
door to let in a streak of sunshine; in one 
corner was a coarse straw mat which served 
the purpose of a bed, and in the other the old 
grandmother was stirring frijoles over a few 
coals in a tiny stove. On the wall was a 
rude picture of the Virgin and before it a 
bunch of fresh flowers. 

But Giulia was already looking up with 
a rare smile and modestly holding the com- 
pleted cloth for their inspection. 

Alice’s eyes widened with pleasure and im- 
pulsively she caught the young girl’s hand. 


110 Carita: Patriotic American 


“It is beautiful! I never saw anything so 
exquisite as the cross and crown design. 
There won’t be a lunch cloth in New York 
to compare with this. Tell me, what shall 
I pay you?” 

Giulia beamed with pleasure at the warm 
words of praise, and with a happy smile, 
named a modest price of a few pesos. 
Carefully and deliberately, Alice folded away 
the linen in her hand bag, opened her purse, 
counted out the money, hesitated, turned to 
Carita and said in an undertone, “I can’t 
do it.” 

“Do what?” 

“Pay her so little. It would be a sin. 
Such fine work is enough to ruin her eyes.” 

Carita made no reply, but by her expres- 
sion it was plain to see she felt the same, 
while Katharine openly agreed with her sis- 
ter. “You couldn’t get the plainest kind of 
a cloth in the States for any such amount.” 


Behind Closed Doors 


111 


The little maid, not understanding what 
they were saying, was evidently distressed 
lest she had set too high a price, and when 
Alice at last placed in her hand a sum nearly 
double what she had asked, was almost over- 
whelmed by her generosity. 

“No, Sehorita, it ees too much.” She fal- 
tered with a motion of dissent, but Alice in- 
sisted, and, when the girls finally left her, 
she was still calling blessings upon them and 
repeating, ''Mil gracias, mil graciasT 

Coming once more in sight of the Ca- 
thedral, with its twin towers, Katharine sug- 
gested they step in for a moment, arguing, 
“We haven’t been in once since Easter Sun- 
day, and it would be nice to see it again, in 
every day clothes.” 

As they passed through the great doors 
into the nave it seemed very quiet and sol- 
emn in the dim light. The walls and col- 
umns, bereft as they were now of festal 


112 Carita: Patriotic American 


decorations, appeared almost plain. An oc- 
casional worshiper knelt before one or an- 
other of the confessionals and a little group 
of women, gathered before a chapel some dis- 
tance to their left, was all that first caught 
their attention. 

Suddenly the cry of a child broke the si- 
lence, and Carita darted forward in the di- 
rection of the chapel; stopping at the en- 
trance, she looked back at her companions 
and, with her finger on her lips to enjoin 
silence, beckoned them to her side. 

“Girls ! it’s a baptism — at least two dozen 
babies! Oh, I’m so glad we happened in. 
See, that’s the baptismal font, and here 
comes the priest. Isn’t that little curly- 
headed baby a darling? How close his 
mother holds him !” 

A baptism is always of interest and, par- 
ticularly, with such a setting. As Alice and 
Katharine pressed nearer, the old priest 


Behind Closed Doors 


113 


made the sign of the cross on one of the lit- 
tle foreheads, and the frightened infant 
lifted up his voice and cried, “Exactly as if 
he were an American baby,” whispered Alice. 

But Carita’s attention had been drawn 
away from the group by the gesticulations 
of a ragged urchin who stood some distance 
from them with a huge bunch of keys in his 
hand. Carita knew that the carved doors 
immediately behind him were always locked, 
and at once suspected something out of the 
ordinary. 

The little boy (she afterwards found his 
name was Giovanni) raised his forefinger 
and beckoned to her. 

What could he mean? She glanced at 
Alice and Katharine. They were engrossed 
in the baptism and did not notice the inci- 
dent. Again the little Giovanni motioned in- 
vitingly, at the same time pointing to the 
doors behind him. 


114 Carita: Patriotic American 


Now she understood, he was trying to tell 
her he wanted to show her something. In- 
stantly her resolution was taken. She had 
always heard there were wonderful treas- 
ures behind those closed portals, and that 
few people had the opportunity of seeing 
them. Another glance at the priest — ^by 
this time there were a half dozen children 
crying lustily. The girls would never miss 
her. Her spirit of daring, fairly roused, 
her blood pulsed madly through her veins. 
In another moment she was by the little fel- 
low’s side and whispering, “Yes, I’ll follow.” 

With a delighted, “Si, Sehorita!” watch- 
ing his chance until he was sure he was un- 
observed he quickly unlocked the doors and 
together they entered the passage beyond. 
Without a word, Carita followed him as he 
turned, first to the right, then to the left 
and, after passing through a dimly lighted 
room, to the left again. 


Behind Closed Doors 


115 


She began to feel confused, and com- 
pletely lost all sense of direction. How 
foolish she had been to come so blindly! 
She felt frightened, and thought of her fa- 
ther’s admonition, ‘Tromise me you will 
never again follow strange people.” Just 
then Giovanni looked back at her with an 
engaging smile, and her fears took flight 
before the frankness of his expression, and 
she comforted herself with the reflection, 
''He isn’t strange people, he’s only a little 
boy!” Still, the disturbing thought per- 
sisted, ‘^Giovanni could not have any right 
to the keys. Who knew ? They might both 
be locked in Belem because of the escapade.” 

But her guide was stopping now before 
the half open door of a small room. Gently 
pushing it open, and reverently making the 
sign of the cross on his forehead, he beck- 
oned Carita to enter. 

Once across the threshold, she forgot 


116 Carita: Patriotic American 


everything — her fears, her doubts, all tak- 
ing instant flight, for there, before her, was 
the most beautiful picture she had ever seen. 
She knew nothing of painting, but felt, in- 
stinctively, that she was looking at a great 
work of art. 

It was only four feet square, a graceful 
figure of the Virgin holding a beautiful in- 
fant. The canvas showed the marks of age, 
and had been patched near the mother’s head, 
but nothing could detract from her surpass- 
ingly sweet face or from the winsome Jesus 
in her arms. 

As she silently gazed, a glint of sunlight 
fell full upon the Virgin’s figure, lending a 
new glory to the faded blue of her mantle 
and emphasizing the half suggested halo 
round her head. 

But Giovanni was already impatient and 
gesticulating to her to return. She dared 
not delay and, with the new emotion still 


Behind Closed Doors 


117 


tugging at her heart, she turned reluctantly 
from the wonderful vision. 

First to right and then to left Giovanni 
hurried, and Carita found it hard work to 
keep up with his frantic pace. When they 
finally reached the nave an angry caretaker 
pounced upon the luckless boy, snatched the 
keys from his hand and locked securely the 
ponderous doors, at the same time uttering 
a volley of Mexican imprecations which 
made the young girl shudder. 

Giovanni cowed, as if struck, and turned 
piteous eyes toward Carita for protection. 
Quick as a flash, she held out a piece of sil- 
ver to the scowling man. Instantly his mood 
changed and he almost cringed before her 
as he exclaimed, “Si, Senorita, muchas gra- 
cias/^ 

Turning to her little friend, she said, in 
simple English, “Thank you, I shall never 
forget the picture you showed me !” Then, 


118 Carita: Patriotic American 


pressing a few centavos in his hand, she 
quickly made her way to the chapel where the 
priest was murmuring a blessing over the 
wailing head of the twenty-fourth infant. 

“Where have you been?” cried Alice, dis- 
covering her presence, “and what have you 
done to make that little beggar make love to 
you? He is staring his eyes out this very 
minute.” 

“Behind closed doors!” was the demure 
answer, aS the three walked away together, 
“and I’ve seen the most wonderful picture. 
The little fellow you say was making love 
to me was my escort. His father is one of 
the caretakers and must have left his bunch 
of keys where Giovanni could find them.” 

“If this hasn’t been an interesting morn- 
ing!” broke in Katharine. “One never can 
tell what one is going to come across in old 
Mexico.” 

When Carita, somewhat haltingly, told her 


Behind Closed Doors 


119 


adventure at home, her mother and father 
did not press the reproof she instinctively 
felt was in their minds, but Mrs. Andrews 
remarked thoughtfully, “I am convinced it 
must have been the picture which is the gem 
of the Cathedral. It is one of the most val- 
ued paintings in the republic, and is a care- 
fully guarded treasure. While I would be 
careful, hereafter, about venturing behind 
closed doors, I cannot but be glad you have 
seen this masterpiece of the great Spanish 
artist, Murillo. To look upon such a pic- 
ture may well be considered an experience 
in any one’s life, and carries with it a bless- 
ing which those who have been so fortunate 
can never forget.” 

Then her father told her of the picture 
of the ‘^Assumption” by the same artist he 
had once come across in the old Cathedral 
at Guadalajara. Her mother got out her 
book of foreign photographs and Carita was 


120 Carita: Patriotic American 


more glad than ever that she had seen the 
famous picture. She declared she loved 
Murillo’s Madonnas even more than she did 
those of Raphael, and she almost screamed 
with delight when, in one of his “Beggar 
Boys,” she discovered a resemblance to her 
own little Giovanni. 


CHAPTER X 


FORTUNE TELLING 

‘ ‘ M ^ADDY, dear,” Carita protested, 
I I the morning of the Fourth of 
July, “do I really have to wear 
the American flag when I like the Mexican 
one so much better?” 

“But the American flag is our own,” ar- 
gued her father, somewhat disturbed; “it 
surely is not a question of having to wear it. 
You ought to love it; besides, it’s the most 
beautiful flag in all the world,” and he 
proudly pinned one on his breast, holding 
another out to her. 

“I don’t some way feel one bit as if it were 
my flag,” she insisted, “I think the red, white 
and green is prettier; besides, it shows the 
121 


122 Carita: Patriotic American 


eagle on the cactus, with a serp it in its 
talons, which is ever so interesting because, 
you see, that’s where the city was built.” 

“There’s a story about the Stars and 
Stripes,” was the quiet rejoinder. “The 
thirteen stripes are for the thirteen original 
states, and the stars show the number of 
states now in the union. You ought to be 
proud to wear the Star Spangled Banner.” 

“Ye-es,” she admitted doubtfully, “in a 
way I am, although I don’t honestly see why 
I need care anything about the thirteen orig- 
inal states, even if you were born in Boston, 
and grandfather fought in the Revolution- 
ary War. History is a bit tiresome, any- 
way.” The look of real distress deepened on 
her father’s face, and she hastened to add, 
“But I’ll wear it, provided I may wear the 
other too.” 

With that he was obliged to be content, 
and was wise enough to make no comment 


Fortune Telling 


123 


when, with studious care, she arranged the 
two on her blouse in such a way that the red, 
white and green was over her heart. 

The Fourth of July is a great day for 
Americans in foreign countries, and this 
year arrangements had been made for an 
especially patriotic celebration in the Tivoli 
gardens, the popular resort of Mexico City. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, with Ca- 
rita, arrived at the entrance they found the 
rest of the party waiting for them, each with 
a tiny American flag conspicuously dis- 
played. The gardens presented a gay ap- 
pearance; festoons of red, white and blue 
reaching from tree to tree, even the fence 
posts draped with the colors of the two coun- 
tries artistically blended, while popcorn, gin- 
ger ale, lemonade and ice cream conies were 
offered for sale in numberless booths dec- 
orated in the patriotic colors. 

It was surprising how many Americans 


124 Carita: Patriotic American 


were in the City of Mexico, and cordial greet- 
ings were being constantly exchanged. 

Promptly at ten o’clock the exercises were 
to begin, so, after a tour of the grounds, Mr. 
Andrews ushered his party into seats as near 
as possible to the grandstand, that the 
speeches might be distinctly heard. On the 
platform were men prominent in the so- 
called American colony, together with two 
or three high in the diplomatic circles of 
Mexico. 

“There he is, don’t you see him?” cried 
Carita, greatly excited, leaning forward and 
nudging Katharine, who sat directly in front 
of her. 

“Who? For pity’s sake, explain,” was 
the somewhat impatient answer. 

“Can’t you imagine? President Diaz, of 
course. Don Porfirio, we call him. Isn’t he 
simply splendid?” was the proud rejoinder. 

And so he was — ^this thick-set man, with 


Fortune Telling 


125 


breast covered with orders, and a suggestion 
of the Indian in his bearing. He was 
slightly above the average Mexican in 
height, with high forehead, fine, straight 
nose, and powerful chin. His was a won- 
derful personality. 

Alice whispered to Carmen she had never 
seen such eyes. ‘‘I can imagine how they 
flash when he is angry, and yet they’re kind 
eyes, too. I must say I agree with Carita, 
he is perfectly splendid,” and Carmen’s 
mother, overhearing the conversation, smiled 
approvingly. “Si, he thinks everything of 
los Americanos. Estd muy hien” 

“And there’s Limantour, we’ve passed his 
house ever so many times ; don’t you remem- 
ber the bougainvillea climbing over the 
front?” put in Lucette. “My father says 
he’s the biggest man in Mexico, except, of 
course, Don Porfirio.” 

But the band was playing “America” and 


126 Carita: Patriotic American 


even Carmen was stirred, waving her hand- 
kerchief as wildly as the rest. 

Next, a tiny girl recited, ‘‘The Breaking 
Waves Dashed High,” and then the Decla- 
ration of Independence was announced. It 
was read slowly and with full appreciation 
of its import. 

There was a real thrill in Carita’s heart 
at the words, “And for the support of this 
declaration, with firm reliance on the pro- 
tection of Divine Providence, we mutually 
pledge each other our lives, our fortunes and 
our sacred honor.” There must be some- 
thing fine about those ancestors of hers who 
had sacrificed so much for liberty, and she 
gave her father a look of such understanding 
that, if it had been possible, he would then 
and there have taken her into his arms. 

When the assembled audience rose in a 
body, at the splendid strains of the “Star 
Spangled Banner,” Mr. Andrews noticed 


Fortune Telling 


127 


that, while his little, willful daughter still 
wore both flags, it was the Stars and Stripes 
that occupied the place of honor over her 
heart. 

As the crowd dispersed Don Porfirio took 
his stand at the base of the platform and, 
with kindly courtesy, held out his hand to 
each and every one. That this was more 
than a perfunctory act was indicated by the 
warm grasp and the gentle glance from his 
softened eyes, and not one of those who took 
the proffered hand but thought of the in- 
cident when the shadows darkened and the 
revolution came that sent the grand old man 
away from his people to whom he had given 
the love and devotion of his great heart, as 
well as the best years of his life. 

'‘Now for the ball game !” shouted Carlos, 
and, in less time than it takes to tell it, the 
three boys were off in an adjoining field 
where the great American game was being 


128 Carita: Patriotic American 


played, leaving the others to watch the 
somewhat milder sports scheduled for the 
day. 

“What on earth are they doing?” asked 
Katharine, her eyes wandering to some half 
dozen Indians dancing wildly round a huge 
sombrero. 

“Exactly what they seem,” responded Do- 
lores, who had witnessed such sports many 
times before. “This is the famous ‘Som- 
brero Dance,’ and the idea is to see how 
near they can come to the sombrero with- 
out touching it.” 

But Carmen was excitedly calling their at- 
tention to the crowd that was rapidly gath- 
ering around a greased pig which was scur- 
rying here and there until a lucky peon might 
succeed in capturing it in his blanket. 

They had turned from the pig to see what 
a lank, black-haired Mexican intended to do 
with three cocks he held under his arms, 


Fortune Telling 129 

when a sudden clap of thunder warned them 
a storm was at hand and, with one accord, 
they hastened to seek shelter. 

“I never can remember about the storms,” 
said Katharine as they huddled together in 
the corner of one of the bedraggled booths 
near the entrance, while the boys tried to 
dodge the drops as they hurried off in search 
for chance cabs. “It’s the funniest weather. 
This morning it was as clear as clear could 
be — not a cloud in the sky, and now it bids 
fair to be a perfect deluge.” 

“That’s what the rainy season is,” 
laughed Carita, opening one of the umbrellas 
with which Mr. Andrews had provided him- 
self, and holding it over three of the girls, 
as she saw a procession of three cabs ad- 
vancing toward them. 

The monastery safely reached before the 
rain changed to hail they were none the 
worse for their experience, although disap- 


130 Carita: Patriotic American 


pointed that the fun had so soon come to 
an end. 

In the midst of the impromptu luncheon 
that followed, consisting chiefly of frijoles 
and tortillas, Katharine exclaimed suddenly, 
‘‘If we were at home, I would suggests we 
wind up the day with a marshmallow toast !” 

“A marshmallow toast!” repeated Carita 
and Carmen together. “We never heard of 
toasting marshmallows, how do you do it?” 

“Never heard of toasting marshmallows! 
what poor benighted creatures !” echoed 
Alice pityingly; “they’re the most delicious 
things! You showed us how to eat man- 
goes and we’ll return the compliment, only,” 
she looked around questioningly, “where can 
we toast them ?” 

“There’s the charcoal fire in the den,” sug- 
gested Carita doubtfully. 

“The very thing! the slower they roast the 
better.” 


Fortune Telling 


131 


“We’ll go for the marshmallows,” put in 
Felipe and Carlos, regardless of the rain, 
which was still coming down in torrents. 
Suiting the action to the word, they were off 
to the neighboring dulceria and back again 
before the chairs were drawn up in front of 
the tiny fire and the necessary hatpins col- 
lected. 

“You take a hatpin, so!” exclaimed Kath- 
arine with emphasis, proceeding to demon- 
strate, “and then you turn it until the marsh- 
mallow’s all a very delicate brown. This 
fire is just perfect,” and she handed the 
first one to Mrs. Andrews, who declared 
it was the most delicious thing she had ever 
tasted. 

It was a pleasant ending to the glorious 
Fourth — this marshmallow toast in the old 
den, although, in spite of the slow fire, more 
than one was burnt to a crisp. They had 
almost finished the three-pound box the boys 


132 Carita: Patriotic American 


had brought when Alice called for a pack of 
cards, offering to tell their fortunes. 

“Yours, first, my dear,” she said, turning 
to Carita, and beginning to shuffle the cards 
with the air of a professional. 

Carita cut for luck, and having made a 
wish, turned up a card which, much to her 
delight, proved her wish would come true. 
Another shuffle and Alice laid the cards, one 
after another, on the table, the entire crowd 
watching with intense interest. 

“There’s a letter first. I shouldn’t won- 
jier if it contains very good news and a pres- 
ent (you certainly are the luckiest girl), and 
oh ! a journey !” 

“That’s to Cuernavaca!” interposed Ca- 
rita; “we’re going next week to stay four 
whole months, and, girls, I’ve been intend- 
ing to ask you anyway, to-day — mother and 
daddy say I can have a house party as soon 
as ever we get settled, and we’ll have the 


Fortune Telling 133 

grandest time. Mexico City is interesting 
all right, but wait till you see Cuernavaca. 
Isn’t it funny how it turned up in the cards?” 
When the chorus of excited exclamations 
following the announcement had died away, 
and the girls had all declared how crazy they 
were to go to Cuernavaca, Alice announced, 
turning another card, “But this can’t be the 
trip to Cuernavaca, because the cards say,” 
she paused doubtfully, “that you are going 
to take a long journey, and I am afraid it 
will be very dangerous.” 

“A dangerous journey! Where do you 
suppose I can be going?” pursued Carita, 
wild with excitement at the thought. 

“What’s that?” interposed Henrique, 
looking over Alice’s shoulder, “a dangerous 
journey, did you say? Sounds as if the for- 
tunes must be a little mixed. It’s Carlos and 
I who are going on the dangerous jour- 
ney, to-morrow — up to the mines. They say 


134 Carita: Tatriotlc American 


the brigands are stirring up no end of 
trouble.” 

‘‘Hush!” whispered Alice, shuffling the 
cards and bending over them again. “I de- 
clare, Carita, I never told a fortune like vours 
before.” 

“What is it? what is it?” 

“A fair child comes into your fortune 
soon. I wonder what that can mean. A 
fair child, and a great change! That’s all 
I can tell you to-day,” and she resolutely 
gathered up the cards. “Now, Henrique, 
it’s your turn.” 

“No fortunes for me,” he answered; “the 
disappointments will come fast enough with- 
out having them told by the cards. I resign 
my turn to Katharine.” 

“It’s easy enough to know what her for- 
tune will be,” was Alice’s laughing response. 
“I can tell without even shuffling that she 
will win all the honors in her class in college.” 


Fortune Telling- 


185 


Then, as her sister cut, “Didn’t I say your 
heart’s desire would come true? There’s 
the answer before you.” Mockingly, she 
bent over the cards. “But, I do declare, 
here’s a dark man appearing already, so 
you’ve a romance ahead of you. Come, Fe- 
lipe — I’m dying to see what the Fates have 
in store for you.” 

“Health and wealth and happiness,” she 
mused, “that is, everything seems to come 
your way at first, but,” she hesitated a mo- 
ment, “why didn’t you ever say anything 
about your military aspirations ?” 

“Because I have never had any,” and Fe- 
lipe watched her laying down one red card 
after another. It was interesting how deftly 
she could handle them. 

“Well, you’re all mixed up in some kind 
of war, and I can’t tell how it’s going to 
come out. Still,” she went on earnestly, 
“there’s love in your fortune, love and con- 


136 Carita: Patriotic American 


stancy, only there’s separation, too, and sol- 
diers marching and fighting.” 

“I don’t like to discountenance your for- 
tune telling,” broke in Carlos, laughing, 
“but, in my opinion, you or the cards have 
somewhat confused Felipe and me. I’m the 
one that has military aspirations and, if I 
had my way. I’d be after the bandits this 
minute.” 

“Well, I give up,” was Alice’s answer as 
she helped herself to another marshmallow. 
“If I can’t tell fortunes to suit, I can toast 
marshmallows,” and she held it over the 
coals, carefully watching it turn a delicate 
brown. 

By this time the rain had stopped and the 
party soon broke up — declaring they had 
never before spent such an altogether de- 
lightful Fourth of July. 

“And to think,” called back Katharine, 
“we actually shook hands with the President 


Fortune Telling 137 

of Mexico, and heard the Declaration of In- 
dependence !” 

“A journey,, a fair child and a change,” 
mused Carita to herself. “Whatever can it 
mean? Of course, there is nothing in for- 
tunes, but it does sound terribly interesting.” 


CHAPTER XI 


A STORY BOOK HOUSE 

T he remaining days before the trip to 
Cuernavaca were busy ones: there 
were ornaments and dishes to be 
packed; favorite books to be selected, be- 
sides the zerapes and other things Mrs. An- 
drews felt she could not do without during 
the proposed four months’ absence from the 
city. At the last moment she decided she 
must take her favorite idol, the one Carita 
used to turn face to the wall when she was 
a little girl because she was afraid of the 
“big smile.” Mrs. Andrews was much at- 
tached to the grotesque relic, which had 
been dug up by some workman in the monas- * 
tery garden, and, besides, it was valuable, 
being almost exactly like one in the museum. 

138 


A Story Book House 139 

Then Carita had treasures of her own, 
ranging from her ivory set to some favorite 
pictures which her Aunt Emily had sent 
from Europe years before. So it came about 
a big box was dispatched by express the day 
before in addition to their own big trunks. 

The railroad to Cuernavaca follows, at 
least in part, the old picturesque trail through 
the mountains by which the Spaniards passed 
in the days of long ago. Carita loved to 
travel and sat with her eyes fixed on the 
passing landscape as closely as she had done 
when she was a tiny girl. 

^‘You see, sweetheart,” her father said, 
leaning over from his seat across the aisle, 
“the Spanish galleons would bring their car- 
goes to Vera Cruz and, from there, the 
freight would be hauled overland from the 
Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean in great 
carts, drawn by oxen or mules over these 
very mountains. Then the ships from the 


140 Carita: Patriotic American 


Philippines and the Indies would bring their 
precious spices and silks to be transferred in 
the same way to Vera Cruz and sent from 
there to Spain. Those were stirring times !” 

Carita watched the patient mules toiling 
up the mountain sides with their loads of 
fruit and produce, trying to fancy how it 
must have seemed in the days of which her 
father spoke. 

As the little wood-burning engine puffed 
its way round and round the steep hills and 
many curves, from time to time they caught 
glimpses of the city they had left behind 
them, now soft in opalescent tints that half 
veiled the distant views and again lying fully 
revealed in the bright sunshine. At last the 
summit reached, they began the descent into 
the smiling valley of Cuernavaca. And, as 
it had been long before they had bidden their 
last farewell to the City of Mexico, so now 
this little town coquettishly showed herself, 


A Story Booh House 141 

from time to time in the dim distance until 
suddenly her red roofs and soft colored 
houses were right at hand, and the brake- 
man called, “Cuernavaca!” in such stento- 
rian tones that Carita fairly jumped from 
her seat. 

Waiting at the station were street cars, 
drawn by mules, and Mr. Andrews was about 
to hail one when Carita cried, “Oh, Daddy, 
Daddy, let’s take the red coach, it’s so much 
nicer I” and, a few moments later, they were 
rattling over the cobble stones through the 
narrow winding streets while the cochero, 
in his handsome embroidered sombrero and 
glove fitting trousers, cracked his whip at the 
four mules, and drew up with a flourish at 
the entrance of one of the oldest buildings in 
the sleepy little place. Carita felt as if she 
were living over some dream : the hotel was 
so exactly as she remembered it, with its 
barred windows and little loopholes through 


142 


Carita: Patriotic American 


which, many a time in the long ago, the ap- 
proach of the enemy had been sighted. 

There were the corridors where she had 
played hide and seek with Francisca, and 
the big patio with the fountain in the midst 
and, oh, joy ! she broke away from her father 
and mother for a moment, coming back with 
the cry, “It’s here, mother ! the big banana- 
tree, and there’s a bunch of green bananas 
in the same identical place near the top.” 

There was a lovely dinner served in the 
corridor, with the sweetest of sweet corn, 
and the juiciest of fresh fruits. After din- 
ner was over it was time to watch the sun- 
set, and Carita led the way up the narrow 
stairs to the old roof, crying out as she 
reached the top and discovered one and an- 
other familiar object in the distance, “There’s 
the palace and the cathedral and the band- 
stand!” 

It was an entrancing view of the whole 


A Story Booh House 


143 


valley with the marvelous background of en- 
circling mountains, besides a riot of flowers 
and patios and churches. “And from here,” 
interposed Mrs. Andrews, “one can get the 
real significance of the name, Cuernavaca 
(Cow’s Horn), Don’t you see the rocky 
ravine, ‘Barranca,’ the Spaniards call it, and 
doesn’t it remind you a wee bit of the crooked 
horn of a cow ?” 

“Yes, indeed,” replied Carita. And then, 
with sudden impulse, as if tired with the ex- 
citement of the day, she sat down, pulling 
her father beside her, on an old wooden 
bench. “And now. Daddy dear, won’t you 
please pretend I am not grown up at all and 
tell me the story of the Popo and the White 
Lady as you used to do when we were here 
before?” 

So, as the sunset colors deepened on the 
snowy summits, he retold the old, old story 
so beloved in Mexico. 


144 Carita: Patriotic American 

“Once upon a time, Popocatepetl and Ix- 
tacuhuatl were giants, but, for some reason 
or other, having displeased the gods, they 
were turned into mountains; in despair, the 
woman died, but the man was destined to 
live on and gaze forever upon the form of 
his beloved one.” Mr. Andrews leaned 
over, smoothing his little daughter’s hair. 
“Can’t you see the woman’s shape, lying 
there, covered with snow ? And, from time 
to time, we’re told, Popo groans in his an- 
guish and tears of fire run down his wrin- 
kled cheeks. The people call them ‘Popo and 
his bride, the royal lovers,’ and fancy that 
they keep guard over the valley, he with his 
head erect, she in her shroud of glittering 
white, while the hills bloom with flowers in 
their honor, and the snowy clouds rest gently 
upon their breasts.” 

Long they lingered on the roof, for, after 
the sunset colors had faded, the moon rose 


145 


A Story Booh House 

over the mountains, lending its witchery to 
this quaint old town of a thousand memories. 

The next morning Carita was up early, 
eager to see the place which would be their 
home for the next four months. A few 
moments’ walk brought them to their desti- 
nation — a big square house, with a plate on 
the front giving the date as 1822. There 
were French windows, grilled to the top, 
heavy wooden shutters and a door that made 
Carita think of a church door. 

Letting themselves in by an immense key 
they found themselves in a kind of vestibule 
or hall, beyond which was an immense sala 
which Mr. Andrews declared must be at least 
seventy-five feet long. The floors were all 
of glazed tiles and the pillars of the corridor 
carved. Then there was a lovely big patio, 
filled with a profusion of flowers and 


trees. 


146 


Carita: Patriotic American 


As Carita made one discovery after an- 
other she gave little characteristic cries of 
ecstasy. 

^‘Mummy, here’s the funniest stone bench 
in the kitchen, and the hall has exactly the 
place for your idol, and. Daddy dear, what 
do you think I found in the patio f a really, 
truly croquet set. Think of playing croquet 
here! Won’t the girls be wild over it all?” 

By afternoon she had exhausted every 
adjective in her vocabulary, and was so tired 
her mother suggested she sit down quietly 
in one corner of the patio, near the old well, 
and write her Aunt Emily about it, and this 
is the letter she wrote : 

‘‘Dear Aunt Emily : — 

“How I do wish you could see this 
lovely, funny old house we are in. 
Mother says you don’t have thick walls 
in the States and as these are at least four 


A Story Book House 147 

feet through you would notice them right 
away. 

“Our door key is so big and heavy 
Daddy says we will have to stay at home 
because we can’t carry it round; but 
there’s a tiny little door by the side of the 
other one, and we can squeeze through 
that if we make ourselves small enough. 

“And, what do you think? In the Za- 
guan (that’s the hall, you know) there’s 
a niche in the wall that mother says is 
meant for a saint’s shrine, and her big 
stone idol exactly fits it and looks too cute 
for anything. 

“Then there’s the patio, with orange 
trees and peach trees in bloom, besides 
jasmines and honeysuckles and a lovely 
pepper tree and a swing. 

“I brought my ivory set with me because 
I love it so, and I most forgot to tell you 
there’s a grand tiger skin rug on the floor. 


14!8 Carita: Patriotic American 


Mr. Carlton shot it himself in the hot 
lands. It is so real I almost jump when I 
come into the room, and his mouth is wide 
open just as if he would eat me up. 

“The girls are coming to-morrow, and 
I know they will be simply crazy over it 
here. After they are gone, I will write 
you again and tell you all about my house 
party. We expect to have perfect oodles 
of fun. 

“Here’s about one hundred kisses from 
your devoted niece, 

“Carita. 

I mean Margaret Andrews.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE MILITARY BALL 

I T was a disappointment that all the girls 
did not come to the house party, but 
Lucetta was having trouble with her 
eyes, which made it necessary for her to stay 
in the city for treatment, and a note re- 
ceived from Carmen explained that her 
mother had made arrangements for them to 
spend a few weeks at Cuernavaca at one of 
the hotels. She expressed many regrets and 
ended by stating, ‘Tt will be almost the same 
because I shall see you every day, and we 
shall be 'vecinitas' (little neighbors) — ade- 
lante'' 

The others, Dolores, Alice and Katharine, 
arrived one afternoon with suitcases and 
camera, and were sufficiently crazy over the 

149 


150 


Carita: Patriotic American 


trip, “the funny picture book town,” and the 
“perfectly darling house,” to satisfy Carita. 

That very night they went to the band 
concert at the pretty little plaza, and laughed 
themselves, as Alice expressed it, “almost 
sick,” over the men, in big sombreros, sol- 
emnly walking in one direction, during the 
intermissions, while the women, as solemnly, 
with their inevitable blue rebozas round 
their heads, walked in the other, without so 
much as a smile when they came face to 
face. 

The first few days were given up to sight- 
seeing, for Cuernavaca is not lacking in his- 
tory and her romance. There is the State 
Capitol (once the palace of Cortez), a beau- 
tiful building of white stone, boasting a gar- 
den gay with hibiscus, geraniums and roses, 
and the old cathedral, in which is a clock 
which was sent as a present to Cortez from 
Charles the Fifth. 


The Military Ball 


151 


Adjoining the plaza is the market with its 
attractive fruits and vegetables; here, too, 
the pottery sellers have their stands, the 
bright vases lending a touch of color to the 
scene, and in the center, a quaint circular 
stone fountain where the women come for 
water, bearing their jars as gracefully on 
their heads as the women of Bible times. 

A little distance out are golf links and 
pretty stone bungalows, built by wealthy 
Americans, an evidence that this little sleepy 
city, with its balmy air and perfect climate, 
had been already sought as a health re- 
sort. 

But more beautiful than all else are the 
old Borda gardens, and the girls listened with 
fascinated interest as Mr. Andrews told 
them of marvelous tales of the fabulous 
wealth of one Jose Borda. 

“Even Mexico, you see, can boast her mil- 
lionaires who have risen from poverty. 


152 Carita: Patriotic American 


Originally, Jose was a French Canadian who 
wandered into old Mexico and was so for- 
tunate as to strike it rich in the mines. This 
garden was one of his special fancies and, 
while the Borda family no longer exists, this 
remains to remind us of their glory.” 

“Wait until you see it,” interposed Ca- 
rita, “it’s the loveliest place, even if people 
do say it’s going to wrack and ruin.” 

In spite of all they had heard, the girls 
were quite unprepared for its beauty; the 
tiny paths, leading nowhere; old fountains, 
all the more beautiful in their ruins; occa- 
sional groups of statuary, shady walks be- 
neath tropical trees. The mangoes by the 
lake were laden with fruit, and it was “such 
fun” to pick them from the ground and eat 
them without any forks. 

There were, too, the avacado or alligator 
pears, great cypresses, and coffee trees in 
bloom, with their white flowers. From the 


The Military Ball 153 

half crumbled walls lizards darted, and the 
terraces were, many of them, a wild tangle 
of vines. 

Once discovered, the gardens were a fa- 
vorite spot, and many were the camera 
views snapped in picturesque places. 

The girls had been in Cuernavaca just a 
week, and were in the patio one afternoon 
playing croquet when Carmen appeared. 
Dolores had just succeeded in sending her 
ball through the last two wickets, thereby 
becoming a rover, when Katharine discov- 
ered her, daintily making her way toward 
them. She was dressed in pink, with fussy 
ruffles, her hands carefully gloved, and she 
carried a changeable silk parasol to pro- 
tect her complexion from the sun. Carita 
thought, too, she detected a suspicion of pow- 
der on her nose. 

''Buenos dias, so sorry I could not come 


154 


Carita: Patriotic American 


before. I planned it every day, but you 
know, ‘manana,’ ” and she laughed slightly, 
seating herself as she spoke in the swing 
chair under the pepper tree. '‘And how do 
you like Cuernavaca by this time?” 

“It’s perfectly splendiferous,” began Alice, 
enthusiastically, while Carita disappeared 
into the house to ask her mother to make 
some lemonade. 

Waiting until she was fairly out of sight. 
Carmen leaned forward, speaking rapidly, 
half under her breath, “I have a plan. To- 
day is a dia de desta, and to-night, at the ho- 
tel, is a ball, you understand, a grand mili- 
tary ball. I want you to come.” 

“A ball!” Alice and Katharine clapped 
their hands. “Carita was saying the other 
day she wished there was something going 
on.” 

Carmen frowned slightly, digging the end 
of her parasol in the ground. “Oh, Carita — 


The Military Ball 


155 


I hadn’t thought. Do you think she would 
care to come?” 

“Care to come ?” echoed the girls in amaze- 
ment. “We couldn’t go without her when 
we are visiting, and besides, we wouldn’t 
want to.” 

“F porquef* Carmen shrugged her shoul- 
ders. “She would spoil it, just as she did 
the bull fight. It was btieno. It is hard to 
forgive.” 

“But she didn’t spoil the bull fight. We 
didn’t any of us care to stay. You see,” 
Alice blundered a little, “we are Americans 
and look at things differently,” then she 
added with directness, “we honestly can’t go 
to a ball without Carita.” 

Carmen’s eyes glittered. She had hard 
eyes, and they never softened as Carita’s 
did. “As you say. It will be a grand affair, 
and the Mexican officers in their uniforms — 
you should see them ! They are quite differ- 


156 Carita: Patriotic American 


ent from Americanos,” and she gave a ges- 
ture as if Carlos and Felipe were not to be 
mentioned in the same breath; ‘‘this is the 
first time Mama has consented — ” 

Dolores had kept quiet during the whole 
conversation, but now indignantly burst out, 
“It’s the meanest thing I ever heard of to 
invite us and not Carita, when she’s doing 
everything on earth to make us have a good 
time. I, for one, positively refuse to stir 
one step.” 

At that moment Carita appeared with the 
lemonade. There was an awkward silence 
as she looked questioningly at one and then 
another. 

In a few moments. Carmen set down her 
glass, saying “it was time to go.” Behind 
Carita’s back she made a gesture, framing 
with her lips the words, “Remember, to- 
night, at the hotel. We will see you home.” 

When she had fairly gone, Carita broke 


The Military Ball 157 

out. “Now, I want to know what’s it all 
about? You needn’t think I was so stupid 
that I couldn’t see she was saying something 
she didn’t want me to hear.” 

“Well,” replied Alice, slowly, “she was in- 
viting us to a military ball at the hotel to- 
night.” 

“And I think it was downright shabby that 
she didn’t invite you,” put in Katharine; “she 
can’t forgive you because of the bull fight, 
and we all of us felt just as Alice did.” 

Carita flushed painfully. “I don’t know 
as I care so very much, and I don’t believe 
Daddy would let me go anyway. He doesn’t 
like the Mexican men, though it might be 
nice for you.” 

“But we won’t go,” insisted Katharine. 

“I don’t think Tom would like to have me 
go,” asserted Alice, although she privately 
thought it would be great fun. 

“You’re visiting,” argued Carita, “and 


158 Carita: Patriotic American 


want to have all the fun you can,” then, as 
she saw her mother coming toward them, 
"‘let’s let mother decide.” 

When the matter was explained, Mrs. An- 
drews thought a moment before she an- 
swered, “Of course, it is an opportunity to 
see a Mexican military ball, which is really 
a great event, and because Carita is not in- 
vited is no reason why you should not accept. 
Mr. Andrews could take you there and come 
for you.” 

“I positively decline,” declared Dolores 
staunchly, “and that is all there is to it.” 

A little more hesitation and debate and it 
was finally decided that Alice and Katharine 
should go. Then came the usual anxious 
thought as to what they should wear. 

It ended by Alice settling on her pale blue 
taffeta, and Katharine deciding on her fa- 
vorite yellow. Carita found flowers in the 
patio*; for Alice, a bunch of pink roses, and 


The Military Ball 159 

for Katharine, some sprays of the jas- 
mine. 

When they were fairly off, Carita threw 
her arms about Dolores’ neck. "‘You’re the 
best of friends, and I won’t ever forget how 
you wouldn’t go, just because I wasn’t in- 
vited.” 

Later, when Mrs. Andrews went to say 
good night, there was a suppressed sob in 
her little daughter’s voice, as she whispered, 
''Mi madre, it isn’t that I care about the ball 
so much, but don’t you think it was just a 
wee bit mean of Carmen to leave me out ?” 

The next day there was much to tell. 

“Of course it was fine,” began Alice ; “the 
lights and the music and the decorations, to 
to say nothing of the dancing and the men in 
uniform, and you should have seen Carmen 
in a low-necked gown, all spangled, and a red 
rose over her left ear, and waving a great 
fan, every bit as much as her mother. There 


160 Carita: Patriotic American 


was one officer she was dancing with most of 
the evening.” 

“I just about ruined my dress,” asserted 
Alice soberly. 

“Ruined your dress,” repeated Carita, hor- 
rified. 

“Yes. I went to get some punch with one 
of those officers, who was all gold lace; I 
didn’t like the punch a bit either, it was so 
strong, and I guess he must have had too 
much, because his hand shook, and, the first 
thing I knew, the punch was spilled over my 
dress. I don’t believe I’ll write Tom about 
it. I can explain better when I see him. 
Some way, I can’t like those Mexican men — 
in fact I’m perfectly sure they can’t be com- 
pared with dos Americanos.’ ” 

And Katharine confirmed the verdict, 
sagely nodding her head, as if she, too, had 
had quite enough of Mexican military balls. 


CHAPTER XIII 




ON BURRO BACK 

)U certainly have the grandest 
collection of pictures,” Carita said 
reflectively, addressing herself to 
Alice who was seated beside her on the big 
tiger skin. ‘T honestly believe you have 
snapped everything in the City of Mexico.” 

‘T have tried to, at all events,” was the 
answer, “and I intend to mount them in exact 
order as soon as I reach home. Here’s the 
station where — ” 

“Is this I?” Carita interrupted, stroking 
the tiger’s head at the same time, “squinting, 
too. Alice, how could you? It must have 
been taken on the Viga, because there’s Hen- 

rique and Carlos grinning behind me. Yes, 
161 


162 Carita: Patriotic American 


and the native huts in the background, and 
the canal. What’s this?” 

“The desert, — I snapped that in the Pull- 
man, while we were waiting for a pulque 
train to pass. You know they give them the 
right of way, and here’s a maguey. We 
call them century plants in the States, and 
have them in pots.” 

“It’s funny how the peons siphon them 
with their big gourds. Pulque, the horrid 
stuff! I never will forget the taste I had 
of it. How do you suppose they can drink 
it?” 

“This is the dearest of all,” and Carita 
held up one representing a Mexican girl, 
bending over her drawn-work frame. Then, 
with a dive for the next, “The flower market 
— it’s perfect, and if here isn’t the Iron 
Horse!” 

“I like the Noche Triste tree where Cor- 
tez wept on the night of his defeat, and the 


On Burro Back 


163 


Jockey Club. Honestly, do you believe the 
tiles really came from China ? And here we 
are, going up the hill at Guadalupe.” 

Carita shuddered involuntarily as she al- 
ways did at thought of her experience in the 
Cathedral, hastening to change the subject. 
“I do believe you snapped the fighting cocks 
and the greased pig on the Fourth, to say 
nothing of the other notables. Yes, here’s 
Diaz on the platform.” 

‘^And, so far. I’ve taken at least a dozen 
in Cuernavaca. I’d like to have every spot 
in it.” 

“You’ll find no end of subjects to-morrow, 
when we go to San Antone,” Carita sighed, 
“and the day after you’re going back to the 
city.” 

“And in ten days more we’ll be whizzing 
away to the States. To think this altogether 
delightful time in old Mexico is almost at 
an end!” Alice looked lingeringly over her 


164 Carita: Patriotic American 


pictures. “Til live it over a thousand times 
and, who knows, may give a talk before some 
missionary society on the land of ma- 
nana?” 

“Quick, girls, look! the darling little fel- 
lows!” cried Katharine, the next morning, 
as some half dozen burros came in view, 
under the charge of a watchful mozo. As 
the girls hurried out from the house she con- 
tinued, in surprise, “I do believe they’re 
stopping here.” 

“You didn’t suppose we were going to 
walk to the potteries, did you?” asked Ca- 
rita, calmly. 

“I didn’t think anything about it, but,” 
her tone was very doubtful, “I never rode a 
burro in my life.” 

“That doesn’t make the least difference,” 
put in Dolores ; “all you have to do is to get 
on and stick on, no matter what happens,” 


On Burro Back 


165 


then, addressing herself to the mozo: 
“What are their names?” 

In reply, he glibly rattled off a string of 
words, among which they managed to dis- 
tinguish, Anita, Nina and Chiquita. 

“I choose Chiquita,” exclaimed Carita, 
“she looks the liveliest of all,” and, judging 
from the knowing smile that overspread the 
face of the mozo^ her guess was not far from 
the truth. 

Then Mr. Andrews appeared with som- 
breros for each of the party, explaining they 
would be needed to shade their faces from 
the sun, and there was a great outburst of 
laughter as they were tried on the girlish 
heads. 

“Everybody mount their burro, and let me 
take a shot!” laughed Alice. “You can’t 
think how funny you are. One, two, three, 
look pleasant.” 

“You can’t imagine how becoming that 


166 Carita: Patriotic American 


sombrero is to your particular style of 
beauty,” retorted her sister; “wait until I 
catch a snapshot of you for Tom’s special 
benefit.” 

A few moments later the party set forth 
and Alice and Katharine soon dismissed 
all anxiety, for the burros, with an occa- 
sional prod from the mo2o, behaved them- 
selves most properly, although Chiquita, 
from time to time, stopped short, as if de- 
termined not to take another step, and Nina 
insisted upon turning into every gate- 
way. 

Single file they wound their way through 
the narrow streets past the pretty cream- 
colored houses towards the rocky ravine 
they had seen from the train where, mid 
groves of orange and banana trees, nestled 
Indian huts. 

Zigzagging down the rough trail, with 
many a scream from one and another, they 


On Burro Back 


167 


forded the clear mountain stream just below 
the dashing waterfall. 

Without hesitation the burros waded in, 
that is, all except Chiquita, who stopped 
short, evidently determined not to stir. 

In vain Carita pleaded, “Chiquita, please 
go. There’s a good little burro,” gently 
touching her with the reins. 

In vain the mozo prodded her fat sides — 
she only planted her feet the more firmly. 
By this time all of the rest were safely on 
the further bank waving and calling to Ca- 
rita. 

It was fully fifteen minutes before Chi- 
quita suddenly gave such a tremendous bray 
that Carita almost fell off in surprise and 
then with a plunge was out in the stream and 
across it with such frantic speed that the 
water spattered way up into Carita’s face. 

They were soon in the Indian village of 
San Antone, stopping for Alice to take a 


168 Carita: Patriotic American 


shot at the picturesque church with the mossy 
stone cross, in the neglected churchyard. 

“How much farther before we come to the 
factory ?” Katharine asked of the mozo, and 
in reply he showed all his teeth as he waved 
toward the adobe huts on both sides of the 
road. 

“Si, Sehorita, the houses are the fac- 
tories.” Following his gesture she noticed 
that the squatting natives were hard at work 
thumping the red clay and marking designs 
with the most primitive of instruments. 

“Oh, Daddy,” cried Carita, “see this pretty 
girl on the straw mat under the red zerape. 
What on earth has she in her mouth?” 

The little Indian maid was trimming off 
the edge of a water jar with nothing in the 
world but a horsehair, holding one end firmly 
in her teeth and with the other smoothing the 
wet clay. She blushed, but went on with 
her work, absorbed in making a design, with 


On Burro Back 


169 


a piece of broken glass, that bid fair to rival 
the scroll on a Grecian vase. 

In another hut they found two old women 
at work sorting tiny pieces of crockery pre- 
paratory to setting them in the clay — a form 
of decoration which belongs peculiarly to 
the Cuernavaca ware. Further on an old 
man worked with a potter’s wheel and, as 
they watched in silence, Mrs. Andrews read 
them a little sermon, likening the molding of 
soft clay to their own characters formed by 
the experiences of life. 

“As the vase comes forth perfect in its 
completeness, so are we better men and 
women because of trials and sufferings” ; she 
paused a moment, then went on, “and we 
may learn a lesson, too, from the potters at 
work. What infinite pains they take turn- 
ing the vase on the wheel, with what care 
they fire it in the rude kiln until at last it 
comes forth a thing of beauty !” 


170 Carita: Patriotic American 


As she finished, the old man looked up with 
a rare smile, as if in appreciation of her 
words. 

They chose many pieces to take home with 
them, and Carita was wild over a water jar 
with the design of a Mexican eagle inlaid 
with the broken bits of pottery. 

Mounting her little burro, with the big 
piece in her hand, Carita leaned over to pat 
Chiquita’s fat neck saying, “Now, Chiquita, 
dear, no more pranks or you’ll make me drop 
my pretty jar,” and the little animal only 
switched her tail and coquettishly moved her 
ears as if in reply, “I’ll see about it, Seno- 
rita.” 

They ate their lunch by the side of a moun- 
tain stream where the women were washing, 
pounding the clothes to snowy whiteness, 
while a constant procession of graceful girls 
passed and repassed them, bearing water 
jars on their heads. Two or three chubby- 


On Burro Back 


in 


eyed children ventured near and were highly 
pleased when Carita called them, at the same 
time holding out a cake or two of sweet 
chocolate. 

‘‘Gracias, Senorita, gracias/* they called 
again and again as they scampered off to 
show their mothers who, in turn, smiled with 
a courtesy all their own. They are gentle 
folk, these potters of -San Antone. 

On the way home the mozo told them of 
two witches who lived in a nearby cave. 
“Tell fortunes!” he exclaimed. “Take In- 
dian idol dug up long ago,” and he spread 
out his palms to make his tale the more ef- 
fective. “Burn flax and tell — oh, terrible 
fortunes.” 

“Are they true?” laughed Carita. 

“Quien saheT’ and he shrugged his shoul- 
ders, “but, Senorita, you should hear.” 

“Oh, but we don’t want to hear terrible 
fortunes, only pleasant things,” and Carita’s 


172 Carita: Patriotic American 


mind reverted to the fair child and the 
strange journey at which, on the Fourth of 
July, Alice had said the cards hinted. 

Not far from the city they stopped at the 
old sugar hacienda, said to date back to the 
time of Cortez, and lingered a while at the 
country home of Maximilian and Carlotta, 
with its half ruined walls and swimming 
pool at the side of the house. 

Nearing Cuernavaca, the setting sun lent 
its glory to the scene, at no time common- 
place, while the women in the huts could be 
heard patting the tortillas for the evening 
meal, and the air was pungent from the 
smoke of their weed fires. 

They passed peons trudging home from 
work, and the Angelus sounded softly in the 
distance. 

Alice and Carita rode ahead with the in- 
tention of stopping at the little postoffice, 
and quite unexpectedly found themselves 



John(j<)» 


SEE THIS VERY MOMENT SHE HAS TOSSED HIM A 

’ I > 



On Burro Bach 


173 


close upon the hotel where Carmen and her 
mother were staying. 

Suddenly Alice motioned. '‘Look ahead, 
what is that man doing, standing in the mid- 
dle of the road, with his guitar? I would 
think him some kind of a wandering musi- 
cian, if he wasn’t in uniform.” 

“Can’t you guess?” was the reply; “he’s 
playing bear, and, if I’m not mistaken, some 
fair maiden is behind that latticed window.” 
Convulsively, Carita grasped Alice’s hand. 
“On my word, it is Carmen, and, see, this 
very moment she has tossed him a rose !” 

But the figure in the window had already 
disappeared. 

After the girls had gotten the mail — a big, 
fat letter from Tom for Alice and one for 
Katharine from her mother, they turned 
back to meet the others. But here, again, 
Chiquita asserted herself, by every little flirt 
of her tail declaring her obstinacy. She 


174 Carita: Patriotic American 


would not go back and the more Carita 
urged, the more positive she became. 
“Come,” her mistress pleaded, “be a good 
little donkey,” but Chiquita, in reply, took 
matters into her own hands, or legs, as Alice 
laughingly remarked, by running straight 
into a neighboring shed. 

“She don’t mean nothin’,” was the some- 
what unexpected comment from the Ameri- 
can owner of the establishment. “You see, 
she’s my pet and likes to stop in for a bite 
on the way home if she happens to be any- 
where near. Better get off and make your- 
self comfortable while she gets a little lunch.” 

And so, quite sympathizing with Chi- 
quita’s desire for “a bite,” Carita joined 
Alice outside and they waited as patiently 
as they could until the owner appeared lead- 
ing the little donkey. 

“She’ll be quite contented now,” he ejacu- 
lated as he helped Carita mount. “Seems 


On Burro Back 


175 


like we all do better when our stomachs are 
full.” 

All this had occupied some time, so it was 
quite late and rapidly growing dusk. As 
they made the last turn they met Mr. An- 
drews and the mozo coming to look for 
them. ‘‘Your mother is greatly worried 
over your nonappearance. What was the 
matter ? Did Chiquita misbehave ?” 

“Only to the extent of wanting a little 
lunch, and I didn’t blame her one bit for that. 
I only felt sorry for Alice’s burro because 
he wasn’t included in the good things. And 
now, Alice, take a snapshot, please,” and 
with that, she slipped olf Chiquita’s back 
and lovingly put her arm around Chiquita’s 
neck. “It will be the very choicest picture in 
the whole collection.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


CONFIDENCES 

A nother week and the girls were 
gone. As they stood on the plat- 
form, waving their handkerchiefs, 
Carita could scarcely distinguish one from 
the other, her eyes were so blurred with 
tears. They were to remain ten days in the 
city and then leave for their homes in New 
York. Of course, they had promised to 
write, but that was small consolation after 
all, and Carita felt a queer lump in her throat 
as she linked her arm in Daddy’s and they 
hurried to catch the little street car. There 
was a diversion' when the car ran off the 
track and all the passengers were requested 
to get out and lend a hand replacing it, but, 

176 


Confidences 177 

after that was over, the queer lump came 
back and would have lasted indefinitely if 
Daddy hadn’t told so many stories and finally 
proposed a game of croquet. 

She beat him three times in succession and 
then triumphantly seated herself in the 
swing with a “Please, Daddy, push me way 
up in the tree-tops.” 

After a while he crowded in beside her 
and they swung slowly back and forth, talk- 
ing of all sorts of things. 

“Daddy, dear,” she finally asked, “aren’t 
you ever going to take me to see your ha- 
cienda f I would so love to go.” 

“No, my dear,” was his quick, positive 
answer, “it would be altogether too hard a 
trip way down in the hot lands. It’s bad 
enough for me. Then think how terribly 
frightened you would be to find a tarantula 
in your shoe some morning, or feel a gar- 
rapata burrowing into your skin?” 


178 Carita: Patriotic American 


She shuddered as she always did when he 
told her the terrors of the hot lands, and he 
went on, “I tell you what we might do, you 
and I. What would you say to a horseback 
ride to the old Aztec ruins, some eighteen 
miles away ? Do you think you could stand 
so long a trip?” 

“Oh, Daddy, yes,” and she clapped her 
hands ; “I can ride ever and ever so far with- 
out being tired.” 

“We could stay all night at some near-by 
place,” he reflected, “and come back the next 
day.” 

“How perfectly splendiferous!” and she 
pressed her father’s hand in a kind of bliss- 
ful ecstasy. 

So it was settled, and while he went to 
engage the horses she ran into the house to 
tell her mother, who was not one bit sur- 
prised, but had evidently known all about the 
plan before. 


Confidences 


179 


They were to make an early start and Ca- 
rita was awake long before her mother came 
to call her. There was a thrill in her heart 
and she sang as she dressed. Think of it! 
Two whole days alone with her father. It 
would be a real adventure. 

The morning was crisp and beautiful, the 
air was as clear as crystal, and the dewdrops 
sparkled on the grass. Carita’s world 
seemed so bright to her as she rode proudly, 
side by side, with her adored Daddy. After 
an hour or so she drooped somewhat, for the 
sun was hot, but her father encouraged her, 
saying, ‘‘We’re almost there, sweetheart; see 
the big hill in the distance? That’s where 
the ruins are. We’ll rest a few moments 
and take a fresh start.” 

They sat in the shade of a big palm tree, 
and Carita took off her sombrero, fanning 
herself vigorously. After a little, opening 
the box of lunch, they ate all the sandwiches 


180 Carita: Patriotic American 


and fruit Mrs. Andrews had so daintily pre- 
pared. Then Carita patted her pretty bay 
horse, who whinnied with pleasure and 
daintily nibbled the lumps of sugar she 
had brought on purpose for him, and soon 
she felt perfectly rested and ready to go 
on. 

Half an hour brought them to the hill her 
father had pointed out and, leaving their 
horses, they climbed to the confused mass of 
ruins at its top. The old walls cast strange 
shadows, and they played hide and seek with 
each other, Carita hiding behind the huge 
granite blocks and darting out unexpectedly 
as if to frighten him. At last they sat down 
together in the midst of what must have been 
an old temple, and Carita listened as her 
father told her of the old Aztec Indians 
who had been such wonderful builders. 

“These sculptures are fully as wonderful 
as those on the monuments of ancient Egypt. 


Confidences 181 

You’ve heard of the Pyramids of Egypt, 
haven’t you ?” 

She nodded as she looked intently at the 
broad-nosed warriors in their feathered head 
dresses, and he went on: 

“I suppose the underground caves and 
ovens were used for sacrificial offerings. 
People may have been roasted alive on this 
very spot. Strange, with all their civiliza- 
tion, they should have been so bloodthirsty.” 

It was too horrible to think of and soon 
they drifted on to other subjects, her father 
stroking tenderly the long braids, and finally 
asking her if she had made up her mind about 
the things “worth while” she had told him 
she wanted to do. 

“Not exactly,” was the earnest answer; 
“you see, there are so many things I can’t 
decide.” 

“Such as what?” 

“Oh, I might be a nurse, or even a doctor, 


182 Carita: Patriotic American 


Katharine says, although I don’t believe I 
would like to perform operations. Perhaps 
a lawyer would be better.” 

It was all he could do to keep from laugh- 
ing outright at the idea of this little daughter 
of his performing operations or arguing 
cases in a crowded law court. 

She was hurt, he could see that, and she 
went on hastily, ‘‘Katharine says ever so 
many girls in the States are taking up law, 
but Alice thinks one can do more good by 
working in the slums or lecturing on Domes- 
tic Science.” 

“How about being an archaeologist?” he 
suggested. 

“A what?” 

“An archaeologist,” he repeated, “and 
study ruins like these, and write books about 
the people who made them. No one has ever 
discovered the key to the hieroglyphics, the 
picture writing of these old Aztecs.” 


Confidences 183 

“Then I could live in Mexico, couldn’t I, 
Daddy dear, and we could go ofif on horse- 
back rides together and have the best times, 
just as we’re having now.” She was more 
than delighted at the suggestion, looking with 
new interest at the sculptured walls. “I 
really think I will consider that very thing. 
But, first. Daddy, there is something else I 
would like to do.” 

“What is that?” he inquired, curiously. 

“I believe, if you don’t mind, I would like 
to adopt an orphan.” 

“Adopt an orphan ?” he repeated, wonder- 
ing if he had heard aright. “Whatever put 
that into your head ?” 

“Well, you see, it’s ever so lonesome now 
that the girls have gone, and soon you won’t 
be here either. It’s hard for mother, too, 
and so I thought it would help if I could 
adopt an orphan. I’ve read about such 
things. I’ve been hoping all the time I 


184 


Carita: Patriotic American 


might find the other bracelet, and some real 
cousin, but I am getting discouraged and 
think it would be safer to adopt an orphan, 
and then I would surely have some one to 
keep me company. Daddy dear.” 

At first he did not know just what to say 
he was so surprised, and, with a sigh he 
touched the soft hair and remarked, “We 
will see about it, sweetheart, and, don’t you 
know. Daddy is trying his hardest to make 
enough money so he won’t have to be away, 
but can live at home with his wife and dear 
little daughter. To tell you a secret, I think 
I shall be able to manage it after a little, if 
all goes well. You wouldn’t be so lonely 
then, would you, dear ?’ 

“Oh, no, indeed,” and settling herself 
against him contentedly she smiled happily, 
“Well, perhaps I won’t adopt an orphan, just 
yet.” 

It was getting late, and time to think where 


Confidences 


185 


they should spend the night, so Mr. Andrews 
unhitched the horses, helping Carita tenderly 
to mount, and away they rode to a neighbor- 
ing hacienda, through sugar cane as high as 
one’s head. 

It was the first time Carita had ever vis- 
ited one of these great sugar estates, and she 
was much interested in everything she saw. 
There was the pretentious hacienda house, 
surrounded by farm buildings and thatched 
huts, the homes of the peon workmen ; there 
was the hacienda chapel, with a bell in the 
arch over the entrance, which had been 
blessed, and whose special function was to 
call the hands in case of danger. At the 
first sound of this bell, the peons and their 
families would drop everything and assemble 
in the patio, while the senor armed the men 
with rifles which were always kept on hand ; 
there were the mills to grind the cane and 
make sugar, and there were the trains of 


186 Carita: Patriotic American 


burros constantly coming in and out the 
gates loaded with everything imaginable, 
from supplies for the family to heavy ma- 
chinery needed in the mills. 

The sehorita and her father received a 
hearty welcome, the owner addressing Mr. 
Andrews as ‘Amigo mio.” 

When Carita went into the room assigned 
her she found the furnishings most primi- 
tive ; the chairs covered with calf’s hide, and 
the canvas bed with a close canopy of mos- 
quito netting. Altogether, it was a novel ex- 
perience and if she had come upon a taran- 
tula in her shoe the next morning she would 
have felt as if she were in the “hot 
lands.” 

Though they started before twelve, it was 
far along in the afternoon before they 
reached home. 

Full of her adventure, Carita jumped from 
her horse and, hurrying into the house, met 


Confidences 


187 


her mother at the door. “Oh, Mummy, 
we’ve had the best time. Daddy and I — ” 
She stopped, her mother’s look was grave, 
and in her hand she held a telegram. 
Scarcely paying attention to Carita, she 
handed it to her husband. “It came yester- 
day, from the hot lands. I hope it contains 
no bad news.” 

Hastily he tore open the envelope, read it 
quickly, and, without a word, went into his 
bedroom, coming out almost immediately 
with his suitcase, which he kept always 
packed in case of sudden calls. 

“Must you go at once, Edward?” 

“Without delay. I can catch the five-fif- 
teen train, if I leave immediately. I fear a 
serious situation, and it was most unfortu- 
nate I was away when the message came. 
There’s trouble with bandits, and there’s no 
knowing what may be the result.” 

“Daddy! Daddy!” cried Carita, clinging 


188 Carita: Patriotic American 


to him until he was obliged to gently loosen 
her arms. 

'‘Good-by and God bless you, my dear. 
We have had a very happy time together, 
and I shall carry the memory of it with me.” 

Another kiss and he was gone, with a quick 
gesture hailing a passing cab. 

Carita turned to her mother, with a sup- 
pressed sob in her voice. ''Mi madre, tell 
me what is it all about ? Why should Daddy 
be so worried?” 

In reply, Mrs. Andrews drew Carita close 
beside her on the leathern couch. "My dear, 
for some time there have been rumors of 
bandits in the north. The Mexican peon is 
naturally simple-hearted, peaceable and little 
inclined to insurrection, but, of late, men have 
been going through the country sowing seeds 
of discontent and stirring up rebellion 
against Diaz.” 

"Against Diaz?” echoed Carita, in amaze- 


Confidences 189 

ment. “I thought Don Porfirio had done so 
much for the poor people.” 

“So he has, but he is growing old and those 
he has put in authority have not been popu- 
lar. In reality, he is blamed for much for 
which he is not responsible. We will hope 
that the discontent will result in nothing 
worse than petty insubordination.” 

They sat long in the dim light, Carita’s 
quick sympathies roused for the grand old 
man she remembered so well, and her heart 
full of vague misgivings for her father. 
She had never before dreamed that anything 
could happen to her great, splendid Daddy. 


CHAPTER XV 


FELIPE 

T hey were in the corridor sewing — 
Carita and her mother. Carita had 
never made a dress before and was 
trying her very hardest, but in spite of her 
pains she had cut both sleeves for the same 
arm and, in despair, had just handed it to her 
mother with the plea, “Can’t you make it 
right. Mummy?” when the telephone rang 
insistently and she dropped goods and scis- 
sors in her hurry to answer the call. 

“Long-distance!” Central called (in Span- 
ish, of course) and, after some uncert 
buzzing, she heard a familiar : 

“Hello!” 

“Hello!” 


190 


191 


Felipe 

“Is this you, Carita?” 

“Yes,” she answered. “Is this you, Fe- 
lipe ?” 

“Yes ; I’m coming by automobile this after- 
noon and will be at the hotel for a few days, 
so we can chase round a little. Will it be 
all right? I’m leaving for college next 
week.” 

“Indeed it will be!” she replied joyously, 
hanging up the receiver and hastening back 
to the corridor, the bothersome sleeves quite 
forgotten. 

“Mother, what do you think?” Carita ex- 
plained. “Felipe is coming this afternoon 
in his automobile and is going to stay three 
or four days in Cuernavaca.” Her voice so- 
bered. “He is leaving for college next week, 
so I suppose this is to say good-by. It seems 
as if every one was saying good-by.” The 
momentary sadness passed and she added, 
“We won’t think about the good-byes, will 


192 Carita: Patriotic American 


we, Mummy dear, but just be glad he is 
coming.” 

“That’s the best way,” was her mother’s 
reply. “If we let our minds dwell too much 
on the good-byes we would be sad all the 
time and that isn’t what life is for.” 

The intervening hours dragged and it was 
close to three o’clock before the car chugged, 
chugged up to the house and Felipe sprang 
out, hot and dusty from the long ride but 
declaring he had had a “bully ride” and that 
the trip was any amount shorter and easier 
than by train. “Tell you what, there’s noth- 
ing like an automobile,” he repeated over 
and over again. 

There was much to talk about and as they 
made their way into the house Carita had so 
many questions to ask, all in a hurry, that he 
had to put up a warning hand, exclaiming, 
“One at a time ! Yes, I saw the girls off for 
the States. When it came to the point they 


Felipe 


193 


were sorry enough to go and said they had 
never had such a perfectly grand time as at 
your house party. And Lucetta and Dolores 
are well, but terribly lonesome without you. 
As for Carmen, I haven’t seen her for an 
age. Oh, yes, Henrique and Carlos wrote 
they are having all kinds of trouble at the 
mines and may have to shut down completely 
on account of bandit raids. And, do you 
know,” he went on earnestly, ‘'all of Mexico 
is fast getting in an uproar and there are 
actually plots against old Porfirio him- 
self.” 

Mrs. Andrews caught her breath, and Ca- 
rita exclaimed excitedly, “Oh, what is the 
matter ?” 

“Oh, general discontent and all that sort 
of thing,” he replied. /‘It isn’t much fun to 
run a country these days and this Madero is 
making all sorts of promises if they’ll only 
put him at the head.” 


194 Carita: Patriotic American 

“What kind of a man is Madero?” asked 
Mrs. Andrews earnestly. 

“An idealist! There’s no doubt but he’s 
honest enough in his convictions that the 
peon is terribly abused, and he’s perfectly 
sincere, too, in his plans to better their condi- 
tion. But it won’t work.” And Felipe 
brought his boyish fist down in a determined 
gesture. “No, his theories won’t work, and 
that’s all there is to it. Why, the average 
peon wouldn’t know what to do with land, if 
he did own it. Such reforms as he proposes 
must come gradually. Besides, it’s a bad 
thing to rouse the Mexican; he’s cruel and 
treacherous, at best.” 

“I agree with you,” returned Mrs. An- 
drews. “If there is one thing the people 
down here need it is education, and I am in- 
clined to believe Diaz is doing all that can 
be done along that line.” She sighed anx- 
iously and Carita looked up quickly, at the 


Felipe 195 

same time laying her soft hand on her 
sleeve. 

‘It’s all so scarey, Mummy dear, and I’m 
so dreadfully stupid I can’t understand it at 
all and” — she shook her braid reflectively — 
“I don’t see how any one can help but love 
Don Porfirio, for all he’s so grand and stern. 
Don’t you remember how he smiled at us on 
the Fourth of July?” And her mind went 
back to the bright day when the fine old man 
had entered the Tivoli Gardens while the 
people went wild with enthusiasm and the 
band played the National air. How queer 
that every one should be turning against 
him? It must be, as Felipe said, very diffi- 
cult to run a government, and she wrinkled 
her brows so thoughtfully that her mother 
hastened to turn the subject. 

Felipe was to stay three days and there 
was so much to do — there were walks and 
drives in all the quaint places Carita had 


196 


Carita: Patriotic American 


grown to love; it was such fun to wander 
through the crooked streets leading to no- 
where, visit the thousand places of interest 
and, best of all, play croquet in the patio. 
She hadn’t had a really, truly game since 
her father went away. It was hard work 
to beat Felipe — she found that out — and 
more than once she had to give up, acknowl- 
edging him the victor. Then they would sit 
together in the big swing and, boy and girl 
fashion, dream away an hour or two. 

‘T can’t think,” she said soberly, on one 
occasion, '‘how it will seem this winter with 
you away. It was such fun last year when 
the girls were here and we were showing 
them the sights and having all kinds of good 
times, and now they are gone and you’re go- 
ing. Oh, dear, whatever shall I do ?” 

He laughed outright at her distress, re- 
plying lightly, “There’s only one thing about 
it, you’ll have to follow as soon as you can. 


Felipe 


197 


Think of the fun you would have at the foot- 
ball games and the proms. You know I 
could never ask any other girl to go with me 
except you.” 

She laughed a blithe little laugh, secretly 
pleased at his assertion, even though she 
didn’t really believe one word of it. 

“Well, no one knows what is going to hap- 
pen, and if they send poor old Diaz away 
and Madero gets to be President no one 
knows what we will all do.” 

Her face was so troubled that he hastened 
to change the subject, laughing at her fears 
and inquiring if there wasn’t some place she^ 
would like to have him take her in his car. 
“I mean some especially nice expedition that 
you never have been able to go on, because 
of the distance.” 

She shook her head meditatively. “I 
don’t know of any place further than the 
ruins, and Daddy and I went there on horse- 


198 Carita: Patriotic American 


back. It took us two whole days.” Then, 
fearing he might be hurt, she added hastily, 
“Not but what I would simply love to go 
again. Then you could see the hier — ” Oh, 
dear, why couldn’t she remember that 
word ? 

Just then her mother came into the patio, 
saying, ‘T’ve been wondering what you 
young people are doing this long time.” 

“Trying to plan some excursion. Do you 
happen to know of any place worth visiting, 
within, say, twenty miles or more ?” 

“There are the caves — ” suggested Mrs. 
Andrews, while Carita interrupted: 

“Caves! I never went down into a real 
cave. It must be all spooky down there in 
the dark. It would be fun to see the stal — ” 
and again she paused helplessly while Felipe, 
who was consulting a convenient pocket 
guide for motorists, suddenly declared the 
trip could be easily made in a day, especially 


Felipe 


199 


if they could start by five o’clock and have 
their breakfast on the way. 

“Another adventure!” Carita’s eyes 
sparkled. She dearly loved all-day excur- 
sions and ecstatically squeezed her mother’s 
hand when Mrs. Andrews consented and 
added she would herself enjoy the trip quite 
as much as they. 

The early morning spin proved altogether 
delightful : the air was fresh and pure, there 
was no dust from passing motors, the birds 
twittered among the branches and the vol- 
canoes never looked so glorious as in those 
early morning hours with the magical tints 
of sunrise touching their snowy summits. 
As they rode along, Carita repeated to Felipe 
the story of Popo and the White Lady as 
nearly as possible in her father’s words, end- 
ing happily, “Popo isn’t crying this morn- 
ing, and doesn’t the White Lady look pretty 
and pink ? 


200 


Carita: Patriotic American 


It was quite seven o’clock when they came 
upon an old adobe building with a swing sign 
hanging to the wind and Carita cried sud- 
denly, “Mummy dear, I’m as hungry as a 
wolf. Do you suppose we could get a glass 
of milk?” 

“We can try,” replied Felipe, stopping the 
car at a nod from Mrs. Andrews, and a few 
moments later they were entering the quaint 
old dining-room, while an old peon woman 
brought them fresh-laid eggs, a cracked 
pitcher filled with milk and the funniest rolls, 
“all twisted like the figure eight,” Carita 
declared. 

They were just about to resume their jour- 
ney when a ragged urchin ventured near, 
holding out his brimless hat filled with a 
funny prickly fruit and saying softly: 

“Will not the senora buy; they are from 
the cactus ?” 

“Oh, mother, do!” called Carita delight- 


Felipe 201 

edly, at the same time reaching out and some- 
what gingerly taking one out of his cap. 
“Daddy showed me how to take the prickles 
ofif, and they’re ever so sweet and juicy.” 

‘*Mil gracias, mucMsimas graciasT 
shouted the little fellow, emptying the con- 
tents of his hat into Carita’s lap and turning 
a somersault in grateful acknowledgment of 
the American dime the signor tossed him. 

Once at the caves, a queer old man, in a 
tattered red zerape, presented himself as 
guide, gesturing and talking in such broken 
English that Felipe was the only one who 
could even guess at his meaning, and laugh- 
ingly explained: “He is telling gruesome 
tales of some motorists who once ventured 
into the subterranean depths without a guide 
and were never heard of again, their skele- 
tons being found years afterwards in a 
gloomy passage. Perhaps we’d better en- 
gage him, in spite of his villainous looks.” 


202 


Carita: Patriotic American 


There were twenty miles or more of wind- 
ing passages which broadened from time to 
time into chambers full of glittering stalac- 
tites. It was very weird in the semi-dark- 
ness, and more than once Carita put her hand 
out to her mother as they came upon strange 
shapes or caught the sound of gurgling 
water forever running beneath them, hollow- 
ing out other passages. There was the im- 
mense Throne Room, so called from two 
huge chairs formed by massed stalagmites 
and stalactites, and Felipe read from his 
guide book that if a New York skyscraper 
were placed within it, a man standing on the 
roof would require a feather duster with a 
handle two hundred feet long to sweep the 
cobwebs from the ceiling. 

Carita gave a long sigh of pleasure as she 
looked around the vast chamber, flooded with 
soft magnesium light. “Mummy, dear, it’s 
like a fairy palace, isn’t it?” 


Felipe 203 

There was the Vestibule, where the walls 
presented the appearance of Parian marble, 
and the El Campanario or bell tower, where 
the stalactites gave out a bell-like sound when 
Carita struck them gently as the guide sug- 
gested. 

Altogether it was a day long to be remem- 
bered, and often afterwards, when Carita 
closed her eyes at night, it was to dream of 
the glittering fairy palace and the gurgling 
water. 

The remaining days of Felipe’s visit were 
gone before they knew it, and the car was in 
constant use almost from morning until 
night. It was amazing how fast they could 
spin over the roads and climb the hills. An 
afternoon was enough for the trip to the 
ruins and, “We had every bit as much time 
to explore,” exclaimed Carita, “as when 
Daddy and I went.” 

It was only fifteen minutes’ ride to San 


204 Carita: Patriotic American 


Antone, where they found the same potters 
at work, the pretty girl under the red zerape 
giving them a gentle smile of recognition as 
she went on smoothing the edges of her jar 
with what might have been the same horse- 
hair, and the old man with the potter’s wheel 
paused too, holding up a completed vase for 
their approval. 

On their return, leaving Mrs. Andrews at 
the house, Carita and Felipe drove on a short 
distance to the Borda Gardens. Alighting 
from the car they rambled among the shrub- 
bery in all sorts of dear delightful places, 
stopping from time to time to look into the 
branches of the great tropical trees. 

How still it all was — scarcely a bird note 
broke the silence! The guavas lay thick 
upon the ground, and they picked their hats 
and pockets full so that “Mummy can make 
jelly,” Carita explained. 

They loitered by the quaint old sun dial. 


Felipe 205 

trying to guess exactly the time, while the 
sunlight filtered through the branches upon 
Carita’s white dress, and Felipe began to 
wish, after all, that he wasn’t going so far 
away. 

They sat on the moss-covered seats of the 
half-ruined ampitheater, imagining there 
were gay players still masquerading there, 
and then wandered over to the little lake, 
where they idly fed the swans and ducks 
with the crusts which they had brought with 
them. 

Finally Felipe burst out abruptly, “You 
won’t forget, will you, Carita?” 

“Forget? Forget what?” 

“All the jolly times we’ve had together.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.” 

“Some way, I almost wish — ” He 
stopped. 

“Wish what, Felipe?” 

“Hang it, that I wasn’t going at all ! If it 


206 


Carita: Patriotic American 


wasn’t that you will be going to Boston to 
school in a year or two at the furthest, I 
would be half inclined to give it all up, and 
stay in Mexico City and go into the business 
as father wants me to. He says college will 
spoil me for business.” 

She threw an extra large crust to the 
graceful swan that was close to the shore. 

^‘You’ll write?” 

‘Won’t I ? Whole reams, telling all about 
the fellows and the fun.” 

There was the suspicion of a sob from the 
slender girl beside him, and he looked at her 
with a quick glance. 

“Oh, Felipe, it just this moment came into 
my head that you won’t be here to bring me 
flowers on my birthday. It won’t seem like a 
really truly birthday,” she ended mournfully. 

There was silence for a moment, and the 
swan glided slowly away. Felipe turned 
suddenly : ^ 


Felipe 207 

“Carita, do you remember that day at 
Guadalupe ?” 

She shivered, his words recalling the dis- 
agreeable experience. 

“You made me a promise.” 

“A promise?” she queried. 

“Yes, you said you would look upon me as 
a brother or cousin,” his voice was low, “or 
— any old relative.” 

She laughed, a little embarrassed. 

“I want you to tell me that that promise 
holds good, no matter where we are or what 
may happen; will you?” 

She flung all the rest of the crumbs to the 
ducks that quacked loudly in their greedy 
efforts to get ahead of their , fellows, then 
held out both hands in a quick gesture. 

“Of course, Felipe, I’ll promise anything 
■you wish, and it won’t make the least differ- 
ence where you are. Don’t I know you’re 
the best friend a girl ever had ?” Then, with 


208 Carita: Patriotic American 


a glance over her shoulder, “It must be late, 
the shadows cover the old sun dial, and 
mother will be waiting dinner,” and with that 
she ran lightly down the grass-grown walk 
and sprang into the car. 

Felipe followed more slowly; he was 
vaguely troubled. Some way it seemed al- 
most like desertion for him to leave Mexico 
at this juncture. Trouble was coming, there 
was no doubt of it, and, perhaps, if he re- 
mained, he might be able to be of some serv- 
ice to Carita and her mother when Mr. An- 
drews was away. And yet, after all, there 
might not be any real danger for Americans, 
this was his chance for college and, besides — 
he was taking his seat in the car — besides, 
every day he was the more convinced that 
Americans should give their best to their own 
country. 


CHAPTER XVI 
carita’s dream 


A fter Felipe had gone, Carita spent 
many an hour in the Borda Gar- 
dens. She would take her guitar 
or her embroidery and, with a kiss to her 
mother, be off, sometimes until dinner time. 

She was quite too old to believe in fairies, 
no one realized it more than she herself, and, 
yet, often and often, she couldn’t help think- 
ing, when under the big trees, or dreaming 
by the lake, how nice it would be if there 
only could be fairies. Once Daddy had 
made a fairyland for her, under the orange 
tree that grew in their pocket handkerchief 
of a patio. He had taken no end of pains 
planting the thick moss he had brought all 

209 


210 Carita: Patriotic American 


the way from the hot lands for that particu- 
lar purpose, and with infinite care had ar- 
ranged little squares of looking glass, “pools 
of water,” as he had explained to his eager 
little daughter. And Carita used to imagine 
that the fairies really visited the little square 
of green and dance there in the still moon- 
light nights when she herself was fast 
asleep. 

So, perhaps, it was not surprising, after 
all, even if she WAS over fifteen years old, 
that she should weave strange fancies about 
the great tropical trees. 

One bright afternoon as she sat sedately 
under the big eucalyptus, busily embroider- 
ing a sofa cushion, she had a most unusual 
experience. She was thinking how much 
the tree reminded her of the tales in Ara- 
bian Nights, with its bark constantly peeling, 
when she heard a peculiar “tap, tap.” She 
looked up expectantly, suspecting a wood- 


Caritas Dream 


211 


pecker, but seeing nothing, resumed her 
work. Again came the “tap, tap,” and this 
time she saw not a woodpecker at all, but a 
slender, graceful figure, just stepping out of 
the tree. 

Carita rubbed her eyes — she must be mis- 
taken. She knew perfectly well there were 
no such people as wood dryads. Neverthe- 
less, there stood before her the prettiest, 
quaintest figure imaginable, dressed all in 
brown with a gray brown cape exactly the 
shade of the bark of the eucalyptus. In her 
hand she carried a slender branch from the 
tree. As Carita, with difficulty, restrained 
her first gasp of surprise, the wood dryad 
laughed (such a low musical laugh it was) 
and making a little curtsey said, as she 
wrapped her cloak more closely about her: 
“So you thought you were too old to believe 
in fairies? Well, well! It is funny how 
prosaic you mortals become ! I am Silva, the 


212 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Queen of the trees, and my home is in the 
Eucalyptus. I began to think you would 
never hear me. Yes,” she nodded brightly, 
“I rapped at least a dozen times. All the 
trees have their nymphs, but I am the only 
one permitted to leave my home and really 
visit with mortals. That’s the reason the 
bark peels as it does, to let me out. Would 
you like to see the nymphs of the other 
trees?” She laughed again, a soft, low 
laugh, and it seemed as if all the leaves were 
laughing with her, and then, touching what 
appeared to be a small knot in the eucalyp- 
tus, but which proved to be an electric button, 
she explained: ‘Tn olden times we had 
fairy spectacles, but now we simply touch the 
button — these modern improvements are 
much more satisfactory.” Almost immedi- 
ately the bright sunlight gave way to a soft 
opalescent light that bathed even the distant 
mountains in glory. 


Caritas Dream 


213 


Carita gave one gasp after another, she 
had never imagined anything so beautiful; 
then, as her eyes became accustomed to the 
radiance, she began to discern graceful 
shapes on every side. In the lemon tree 
stood a v^raith in palest green; the spirit of 
the orange was wearing some of her own 
blossoms, like a bride ; the nymph of the palm 
fanned herself with the great leaves, while 
the olive fluttered her silver gray foliage. 
More graceful than the rest, the pepper, 
with pink berries in her hair, held out her 
feathery arms, while, in the background, she 
could discern the shapes in the mango and 
the guava, wildly waving in her direction. 

Wider and wider opened Carita’s eyes: 
“If I only knew what they are saying!’' 

“You shall,” was the obliging response, 
and Silva held out a funny object. '‘Just 
put this to your ear, it’s a fairy acousticon.” 

To her surprise, the confusion of sound 


214 Carita: Patriotic American 


resolved itself into soft harmonies and she 
found that the trees and the birds were sing- 
ing and talking to her. 

*‘We love you,” sang the olive. 

“We love you,” rustled the leaves of the 
pepper, while the lemon and the orange held 
out their arms in invitation to her. 

She would have been content to listen in- 
definitely, but Silva, a little impatiently, 
roused her with the words, “This is only the 
beginning of what I want to show you. I 
have set my heart upon taking you to the 
land of the Story Trees, and it lies far away. 
You see, if I am not in my own tree by sun- 
down I shall be turned into a mortal.” 

Looking into the sky, she gave a low 
whistle and, as a fleecy cloud came floating 
down, she cried, “It is fortunate I have my 
new aeroplane, or we never could go so far 
this afternoon.” 

When the cloud came nearer Carita saw 


Caritas Dream 


215 


it was quite different from what she imag- 
ined. In fact, it resembled nothing so much 
as a great bird, something like a seagull, and 
as it reached the ground the graceful wings 
lay flat and still. 

“So that’s an aeroplane!” exclaimed Ca- 
rita delightedly. “It is more elegant than 
an automobile,” and as she snuggled down 
among the cushions she made up her mind 
she would ask Daddy to get one for her as 
soon as he could possibly afford it. 

It was a wonderful ride, this trip to the 
Story Trees, and, as they mounted higher and 
higher into the blue heavens, Carita leaned 
far over the sides of the aeroplane for a 
glimpse at the wood dryads and held the 
acousticon close to her ear that a single note 
of the bird songs might not be lost. 

It seemed only a short time when Silva 
suddenly cried, “Here we are, just above the 
land of the Story Trees I” and she pointed to 


216 Carita: Patriotic America 


a patch of color below them. Slowly the 
great bird floated downward and, as it 
stopped for them to alight, a strange sight 
met Carita’s eyes. Stretching as far as the 
eye could reach, were acres of trees abloom 
with variegated blossoms. 

There were long lines of hedges made of 
lead pencils, sharpened for use; breaking 
one off, she was delighted to find another 
instantly grow to take its place, and very 
gayly she cried, “Oh, I do wish Katharine 
were here; she would always find pencils 
ready when she wanted to write a theme.” 

Hand in hand the two wandered through 
the wonderland of trees, each moment mak- 
ing some new discovery. The ground was 
covered with poppies which Silva called “in- 
spiration,” and Carita again thought of 
Katharine and her themes. 

On their left was a clump of low shrubs, 
covered with buds, and when Silva explained 


Carita's Dream 


217 


these were “similes and metaphors which 
would open when picked into beautiful blos- 
soms,” Carita nearly went wild with de- 
light. 

Soon they came to quantities of trees, 
bending under the weight of what looked like 
immense roses, and, after holding her breath 
as she exclaimed over their beauty, instinc- 
tively Carita stretched out her hands to 
gather them. 

“These are the real Story Trees,” laughed 
her guide, smiling at the girl’s enthusiasm. 
“They are very attractive, even if some are a 
little too brilliant. It takes experience to 
pick the best, and I am sure your mother 
would prefer to have me select some for you.” 
And with that she began gathering roses 
from one and another which, after a little, 
she handed in an immense bouquet to her 
friend. 

Soon Carita’s attention was attracted by 


218 Carita: Patriotic American 


some tall trees to the right, fairly loaded 
with nuts. 

“Those are the study trees!” cried Silva. 
“They are much more valuable than the 
story trees, although not nearly as popular. 
You see, nuts have to be cracked, and many 
people are too lazy to make the effort.” 

By this time Carita’s eyes were shining. 
“Those would please Felipe best of all. He 
has just gone away to college and I am sure 
he would like to crack them. Next time I 
come, I must bring a basket and gather some 
for him.” She nodded her long braid reflec- 
tively. “I never dreamed there could be 
such wonderful trees.” 

As she turne4j she couldn’t help noticing 
the queerest kind of a bush, not bigger than 
a coffee tree. It was covered with what 
looked “Exactly like paper doll dresses,” she 
whispered to Silva, but, “of course, that can’t 
be possible.” 


Cantabs Dream 


219 


‘‘Oh, yes, it can ; anything is possible here 
— that is the tree of patterns — lingerie, 
dresses, blouses, coats. If you look closely 
enough, you will easily distinguish them.” 

Carita wished with all her heart that Alice 
could only see them, for she was confident 
they would help her so much with her trous- 
seau, but Silva hurried her on, and pointed 
out a tree, away to the left, which she con- 
sidered of far greater importance. 

“That,” she said, “is the most wonderful 
tree in all the world — the tree of ideas — it 
spreads and spreads and keeps on spreading 
until no one knows where it will stop. It is 
like the banyan, that strange tree of India, 
and the branches are constantly rooting 
themselves.” As she spoke, she took hold 
of her companion’s hand. “Come closer 
and see what you can discover under the 
leaves.” 

What was Carita’s astonishment to see 


220 


Carita: Patriotic American 


countless tiny insects, clustered together, and 
she stood close beside her guide, listening 
with fascinated attention to every word she 
said. 

“These are ideas that each morning fly 
forth to every part of the world. Many of 
them never come back, for they are seized 
and held by bright minds. They are, of 
course, invisible to mortal eye, but the con- 
sciousness of their presence makes itself felt 
by the receptive brain. No idea is ever lost, 
for, if it is not seized, it flies back to the tree 
to go forth at some future time. The idea 
of wireless telegraphy was flying about^for 
years before any one caught it. So with 
most of the great inventions. Now, when- 
ever you hear any one exclaim, T have an 
idea!’ or ‘have caught on to something!’ you 
will understand better what it means, won’t 
you?” 

“Oh, yes,” replied Carita, greatly im- 


Caritas Dream 


221 


pressed, “and I do hope some ideas will come 
to me.” 

Silva nodded, “Of course they will, and I 
am sure you will be ready to catch them.” 
Then, with a nervous glance at what Carita 
had thought was a magnolia blossom, but 
which proved to be a clock, gave the signal 
for her aeroplane and, in a few moments, on 
the back of the great bird, they were swiftly 
speeding again through the air and soon de- 
scending in front of the big eucalyptus. 

“And now,” cried Silva, “before I go into 
the tree I must be sure and turn off the fairy 
light and hide the acousticon under this flat 
stone so you can use it whenever you wish.” 

Just as the nymph disappeared into the 
tree and almost before the loose bark had 
fairly closed over her cloak, Carita heard 
her mother’s voice, “So here you are ! I’ve 
been searching everywhere for you. I have 
brought some sandwiches and fried chicken 


222 Carita: Patriotic American 


with me, thinking it would be pleasant to 
have our supper under the trees. I believe 
you have actually been asleep.” 

Carita yawned and rubbed her eyes. 
“That’s exactly what has happened, Mummy 
dear, and I’ve had the most wonderful 
dream. If only the white rabbit had come by 
looking for his kid gloves and his fan I 
should have been sure I was in Alice’s Won- 
derland.” 

As they sat there eating their supper under 
the eucalyptus, Carita told her mother all 
about the nymphs and her ride through the 
blue sky, ending with a little sigh, “And I do 
wish it were true and that we could know 
what the trees and the birds are saying, don’t 
you, mi madref 

Her mother was silent a few moments, 
and then, entering into the young girl’s mood, 
answered gently, “Yes, we grow only too 
soon beyond the age of believing in fairies. 


Canta*8 Dream 


228 


and yet I wonder if the trees are not always 
ready to stretch out their arms in friendly 
intimacy and if the birds would not sing their 
sweetest carols to us if we would only listen.” 

As the leaves rustled above their heads, 
Carita felt she understood. 


CHAPTER XVII 


ANXIOUS DAYS 

NE month from the time Felipe left, 



Carita and her mother were back to 


the city. It was nice to be home, 
and there was a real satisfaction in arrang- 
ing and rearranging until everything was 
cozy and natural once more. 

“For all Cuernavaca was lovely, mother 
dear,” exclaimed Carita, “there’s no place 
like the old monastery, although,” she added 
meditatively, “I shall miss the big tiger skin, 
it was so nice and soft to lie down on and 
put one’s head close up to his big red jaws. 
I wonder if Daddy couldn’t bring a tiger skin 
from the hot lands ?” 

Soon a letter came from Felipe, telling 


224 


225 


Anooious Days 

about his trip and his impressions of the big 
university. “I tell you what, it’s enough to 
rouse a fellow’s ambition just to see the cam- 
pus and buildings. I spent the whole of 
Saturday morning in the Agassiz Museum. 
I haven’t seen much of Boston, they’ve been 
keeping me too busy right here in Cambridge 
and, goodness knows, there is enough to be- 
seen here, from the Longfellow house and 
the Lowell home to the old elm under which 
Washington took command of the Revolu- 
tionary Army. But there’s time enough for 
sight-seeing in Boston later on. Thank your 
mother for the letter of introduction to your 
Aunt Emily. I haven’t used it yet, but some 
time I’ll rig up in my best togs and go and 
call. I imagine she’ll be glad enough to hear 
about that niece of hers in that heathenish 
country.” 

A half repressed sigh from Mrs. Andrews 
made Carita look up quickly. 


226 Carita: Patriotic American 


'‘What is it, Mummy dear ?’ 

“Nothing much, only your father says that 
while there have been no serious outbreaks in 
the hot lands the insurrection is doubtless 
gaining headway in the North and spread- 
ing rapidly. He mentions also trouble in the 
state of Morelos, near Cuernavaca.” 

“Oh, mother,” said Carita quickly, “it was 
the peacefullest place!” 

“Nevertheless,” and Mrs. Andrews read 
aloud, “ ‘Reports say that there have been 
raids in the country round about Cuernavaca 
resulting in assaults upon foreigners.’ ” 

“Mother 1” Carita’s voice was tense with 
anxiety. 

“ ‘All this tends to rouse feeling against 
the Americans and I am glad you are safe in 
the City of Mexico.’ ” Laying down the let- 
ter, again Mrs. Andrews sighed. They were 
safe enough, it was true, and yet, even Mex- 
ico City seemed different. 


Anooious Days 


227 


Although Diaz had opened Congress on 
the sixteenth of September with words of 
congratulation upon the accomplishments of 
the last century, and prophecies for future 
prosperity, the city seemed full of a vague 
discontent; even the street scenes had as- 
sumed a different aspect. There were knots 
of excited peons, and looks and occasional 
actions of disrespect shown to gringos. 

The papers hinted that it would be better 
if Don Porfirio would resign his office as 
president, and the name of Madero was in 
many a mouth. 

Still, they settled back into the usual rou- 
tine, and Carita resumed her studies at the 
little school. Her ambition roused by her 
friendship with the two girls from the States, 
she was determined to prepare for the college 
education upon which she had fully decided. 

To some extent, Lucetta and Dolores 
shared the feeling, but Carmen had left to 


228 Carita: Patriotic American 


pursue her studies in a private school con- 
ducted by some Spanish friends of her moth- 
er’s in another part of the city. 

Carita heard frequently from Alice and 
Katharine, Alice writing more at length than 
her sister, who was hard at work in school. 

“Just think, Carita, we have actually 
set the date for our wedding — December 
28, three days after Christmas We have 
decided to be married in church with all 
the Christmas decorations. I do wish you 
could be here, for it’s honestly going to be 
the most beautiful wedding that ever was, 
and I do want you terribly for bridesmaid. 
But I’m not going to write any more about 
it, for Katharine will tell you all about it 
when it is over and will send you a box of 
wedding cake. 

“I wish you could see my hope chest. I 
have the loveliest things, as every one 
agrees, especially those darling lunch 


Anxious Days 229 

cloths and napkins I had drawn in Mexico. 
Then my Spanish lace and white mantilla ! 
I can’t begin to tell you how every one 
raves over them. Tom thinks everything 
of his ring and says the only thing we 
didn’t bring home was a Chihuahua dog. 
Ugh ! I hate the little naked things. 

“We all hope there isn’t going to be 
trouble in Mexico — I mean anything seri- 
ous. Father is dreadfully worried over 
his rubber interests. But I think probably 
President Diaz can straighten everything 
out. He’s such a perfectly grand old man. 
I have told ever so many people how we 
shook hands with him on the Fourth. 
Well, if things get too dreadfully upset 
you’ll have to come to the U. S. and let 
Uncle Sam take care of you. 

“I’m awfully sleepy now, so won’t write 
any more, but, honestly, Carita, Tom is a 
darling and you simply must come and 


230 Carita: Patriotic American 


visit us after we are married. We’re go- 
ing to live in an adorable little flat until he 
gets established in his hospital practice. 

''Adios or good-by, whichever you prefer. 

“Yours, Alice Morgan.” 

Carita always remembered the day Alice’s 
letter came, because she had no sooner read it 
than the newsboys came by, crying shrilly, 
“Rioting in the streets ! American flag torn 
down!” while a drunken man called out as 
he shambled along, “Death to the gringos !” 
and a crowd of peons shouted, “Down with 
Diaz !” “Viva Madero !” 

Mrs. Andrews turned pale, her heart stood 
still — what could it mean ? She had no idea 
the rumors of dissatisfaction were crystalliz- 
ing into anything so serious. 

They learned later that the mob of medical 
students had assaulted Americans on the 
streets, windows had been broken, and a car 


Anxious Days 


231 


carrying American children had been stoned. 

^‘Oh, mummy, mummy, cried Carita, 
terror-stricken, '‘whatever is going to hap- 
pen 

Mrs. Andrews drew the little head down 
on her lap. “I do not know. If worse come 
to worst, we must go to the States.” 

"Without Daddy?” 

"I cannot tell. We will hope for the best, 
and be very brave.” 

After this demonstration Diaz strength- 
ened the police force and took every measure 
possible to safeguard the Americans. Many 
talked of leaving, protests were sent to 
Washington, and Daddy wrote he would 
come home as soon as possible, and it might 
be best for them to consider leaving Mexico. 

Then everything in the capital seemed to 
quiet down, although there were continued 
riots on the border, and the so-called Madero 
party constantly increased in strength. 


232 Carita: Patriotic American 


Thanksgiving came, an uneventful day to 
Carita and her mother because Daddy did 
not come home, and the turkey looked so big 
when they sat down to the table alone. 
After dinner, Carita spent the whole after- 
noon writing to him, and then, in the dusk, 
played on her guitar everything she could 
possibly think of. 

In spite of the advice of his best counselors, 
Diaz took the oath of office as President of 
Mexico for the eighth term, assuring the peo- 
ple of the hopeful outlook for the republic. 

Carita was quite happy, saying over and 
over again to her mother, ‘‘Everything is all 
right now, isn’t it. Mummy dear ?” while her 
mother would reply with every possible reas- 
surance, although she was still troubled, fear- 
ing that the smoldering fires might again 
break out. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A DISAPPOINTING CHRISTMAS 

S OON it was time to think of Christmas 
presents, and Carita said thoughtfully 
one morning, ''Mi madre, Christmas 
is ever so important this year, I have so many 
to give to,” and she began counting off on 
her fingers. “Besides you and Daddy and 
Aunt Emily,” she drew a long breath, “and 
Dolores and Lucetta, there’s Alice and Kath- 
arine and Felipe. I wonder if he won’t be a 
mite homesick this first Christmas away from 
home?” 

In the days of shopping that followed, anx- 
ieties were forgotten. 

It seemed as if Mexico City had never pre- 
sented as gay an appearance as at this par- 
233 


234 Carita: Patriotic American 


ticular Christmas season; the shops on San 
Francisco street were bright with jewelry, 
cut glass and silver ; windows were filled with 
favors to be used in holiday festivities from 
small china ornaments to imitation holly and 
Christmas trees; there were hundreds of 
gayly colored pinates, some in the form of 
oval jars, decorated with tissue paper and 
tinsel, others representing grotesque figures 
of clowns or ballet girls. 

The streets around the Alameda were lined 
with booths, filled with baskets, pottery and 
curios, brought in from the country by the 
Indians, for the holiday trade. 

At last Carita was satisfied, and ex- 
claimed, ^T do believe I’ve found everything 
I wanted ! I am sure the girls will be pleased 
with these pretty silk rebozos, they’re exactly 
the right length for evening wraps,” and she 
threw one of the dainty scarfs gracefully 
over her shoulders. ^‘Pink is the right color 


A Disappointing Christmas 235 

for Alice, and Katharine can’t help but look 
well in the blue.” She chatted happily on 
“how Daddy would like his neckties she had 
crocheted for him, and Aunt Emily would be 
pleased with the brooch, made of the Mexican 
dollar, with the eagle cut out. Then, this is 
such a beauty pocket-book for Felipe, the 
outside all carved, and his name on the in- 
side. I took the signature from his last let- 
ter and, see, how they copied it precisely.” 

She bent over a collection of small articles. 
“And don’t you think. Mummy, the girls will 
love these tiny pottery dishes, exactly like the 
ones Francisca cooks with. As for the idols 
— I wonder if they are what Felipe would call 
genuine.” She picked up some brightly col- 
ored gourds, beginning to wrap them in tissue 
paper. “I’ll tell Alice to string these to- 
gether as a wall decoration for Tom’s den. 
I believe I have everything ready now except 
the dukes, you know they thought the Mexi- 


236 Carita: Patriotic American 


can candied fruit was perfectly delicious.” 

Her mother smiled, ^‘We’ll try and get the 
packages off this afternoon,” and Carita, 
with a loving last look at the treasures she 
had collected with so much pleasure, seated 
herself at her father’s desk and began to 
write : 

“Dear Girls: — 

“First of all, I am going to send you 
‘Felisces Pascuas/ which is, of course. 
Merry Christmas. I do wish you could 
be in Mexico City now and go with mother 
and me to see the sights. December tenth 
is Guadalupe Day and the Indians come 
from every part of the republic to visit the 
shrine of the Virgin. They pour into the 
city by train, burro back or on foot, camp- 
ing on the hills. You can see their camp 
fires miles away. 

“The real Christmas celebration begins 


A Disappointing Christmas 237 


on the sixteenth, and Mummy and I go to 
the churches to watch the posadas. Per- 
haps you don’t know that posada means an 
inn, and the celebration is in memory of 
the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethle- 
hem. You can’t imagine how interesting 
it is to watch the queer procession, usually 
on donkey back, making the rounds of the 
churches and asking admission in a sort of 
weird chant until at last the answer 
comes, ‘Yes, you may come in,’ and the 
posada ends with a glad hymn of rejoic- 
ing. 

“Everything is different from what it is 
with you. Christmas is the time for fire- 
works and the Mexican children don’t 
hang up their stockings but put out their 
shoes, hoping the Wise Men won’t forget 
to leave them some of their gifts. 

“I am sending a few little things to hang 
on your tree. I hope you will like them 


238 Carita: Patriotic American 


and that they will remind you of old 
Mexico. 

“I am most dreadfully excited over the 
wedding and would give most anything if 
I could be there. Katharine, don’t you 
dare forget to write me every single thing 
and send me that piece of wedding cake. 
And, Alice, I have found the best wedding 
present for you but I’m not going to tell 
you what it is. It will have to be a sur- 
prise to be appreciated. 

''I know you will have simply 'oodles’ of 
fun, and shall think of you every single 
moment on the twenty-eighth. Some of 
these days I am going to come and see you 
in that adorable little flat you wrote about. 

"Lots of love from Mummy and me, 
"Carita.” 

Christmas was as bright a day as ever 
dawned in old Mexico. Carita’s fingers tin- 


A Disappointing Christmas 239 

gled a little as she got up in the early morning 
to see what was in her stocking. It was full 
to overflowing and she went into little par- 
ticular raptures all by herself as she hopped 
back into bed with the contents in her hands. 
What a nice Christmas it was going to be ! 

To be sure, it was a disappointment that 
nothing had come from the States — not a 
package from the girls, Felipe or her Aunt 
Emily. Her mother had suggested that the 
Revolution was the probable cause and she 
couldn’t help feeling resentful as she imag- 
ined the bandits enjoying her Christmas 
presents. 

Hark! what was that? She sat up and 
listened. A knock at the door! In an in- 
stant she had slipped on her red kimono and 
was flying to open it. Her heart gave a 
quick leap. Perhaps it was Daddy ! 

In his last letter he had promised to ‘'turn 
up” some time during the day. She opened 


240 Carita: Patriotic American 


the door just a little way and, as she peeked 
out through the crack, her heart fell again. 
It wasn’t Daddy at all. 

Instead of the broad-shouldered man she 
had confidently expected to see, there was a 
messenger boy in his blue uniform. 

Surmising something wrong, she took the 
yellow envelope and, all the Christmas fun 
gone out of her heart, she carried it in to her 
mother, standing disconsolately beside her as 
she opened and read it. 

‘‘What is it?” she asked anxiously. 

“It is from your father,” her mother an- 
swered slowly. “He can’t possibly get away. 
Something has happened, unexpectedly, but 
he hopes to come soon.” 

“Not come? Daddy not coming!” It 
seemed as if she must have misunderstood. 
This was the very first Christmas he had 
not been home, and she had worked so hard 
to get the neckties finished. 


A Disappointing Christmas 241 


Her lip quivered, and she choked back a 
sob. “It’s the old bandits, I just know it is !” 

“I am afraid you are right,” her mother 
replied soberly. “The Revolution is grow- 
ing in strength every day, but, there, child, 
your father wouldn’t like to have your 
Christmas spoiled even if he isn’t here. So 
cheer up and have your breakfast.” 

Nevertheless, the tears couldn’t be held 
back and they kept welling up in her eyes all 
the time she was dressing. She hated Revo- 
lutions, and what was the use of them any- 
way ? But the bright Mexican sun was shin- 
ing in at the windows, and after a while the 
smiles came back — she and Mummy were to- 
gether at all events, and Daddy had promised 
to come as soon as he could, and that might 
be to-morrow, quien sahe? 

After breakfast she ran down into the gar- 
den — ^yes, there were white roses, whole clus- 
ters of them, and the oleander was full of 


242 Carita: Patriotic American 


blossoms. She stopped a little while, trying 
to make the green parrot say, '‘Merry Christ- 
mas,” instead of his incessant, “Polly wants 
a cracker,” and then hurried back with her 
arms full of flowers. 

“They don’t have roses like these, Christ- 
mas time, in New York city, do they, 
mother ?” 

“Only in the shops; they have holly and 
mistletoe and icicles instead.” 

“Won’t you tell me about Christmas when 
you were a little girl ?” begged Carita, after 
the last vase was filled. She curled into the 
big easy chair beside her mother. “Some- 
thing about the snow and ice. I do wonder 
how it would seem to be out in a real snow 
storm.” 

“I remember one Christmas,” her mother 
began, “when the trains didn’t run, and the 
telegraph wires were down, and not a single 
Christmas parcel reached us.” 


A Disappointing Christmas 243 

“That’s exactly the way it is to-day,” 
nodded Carita, “only here it’s the Revolu- 
tion.” 

“And there it was the snow. Those were 
great days, with the big plum puddings, and 
the family reunions, only” — a note of sad- 
ness crept into her voice — “it was never the 
same after your Uncle Robert went away.” 

As she finished, there stole into both minds 
the thought of the faded outlines of the 
child’s face in the old bracelet. 

So the day passed; Dolores had a jolly 
pihate party in the afternoon and, after sup- 
per, Carita lighted the tall Christmas tree in 
the patio. 

It was all gay enough, with the candles 
shining so brightly mid the flowers and vines, 
while the moon came stealing over the roof, 
and the canary bird, just inside the corridor, 
woke up and sang a carol all his own. 

Every night the tree was lighted, for Ca- 


244 Carita: Patriotic American 


rita was determined it should not be put 
away until after Daddy had seen it. But the 
holidays passed, the candles were almost 
burnt out, and then, one evening, a click of 
a key was heard in the door, and there was 
Daddy at last. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE PIECE OF WEDDING CAKE 

Y es, he was glad to be home : his arms 
tightened as he held Carita closer. 
He had been as disappointed as they 
that he couldn’t come for Christmas. “But, 
never mind, I am here now, and, thank God, 
you are both safe. No mortal knows how 
worried I have been these last few weeks.” 

“Oh, we have been safe enough,” replied 
Carita, stopping to give him another kiss, 
“if only the bandits hadn’t helped them- 
selves to our Christmas presents. Think of 
it! Not a single thing from the girls or 
Aunt Emily or Felipe.” 

“Very inconsiderate of them, to be sure,” 
responded her father sympathetically, al- 

245 


246 Carita: Patriotic American 


though it was easy to tell from his tone 
that the loss of a few Christmas presents 
seemed a small matter in comparison with 
their safety, “but that reminds me, I stopped 
at the post office on my way from the station 
and there I found a letter and a package for 
you. Bless my soul, I almost forgot them.” 

“A letter and a package !” Carita made a 
dive for them. “How thick it is. Daddy, 
mother, it’s from Katharine, she promised 
to tell me all about the wedding, and this,” 
she scrutinized the parcel critically, “must 
be the piece of wedding cake !” 

“Just a moment and we’ll find out,” and 
with that he whipped out his penknife, cut 
the strings and took off the brown paper 
wrapping. “I believe you’re right, sweet- 
heart, it looks amazingly like a box of wed- 
ding cake.” 

“Isn’t it too darling for words? and with 
Alice’s monogram in the corner,” then, as 


The Piece of Wedding Cake 247 

she opened the box and the thick slice of 
fruit cake came to view, “that’s exactly what 
it is ! but what is this funny dried up flower 
crowded in with it?” 

“If I’m not mistaken,” put in her mother, 
“it’s a spray of orange blossoms, probably 
from her bouquet.” 

But Carita was already absorbed in her 
letter. “Just listen. Mummy, it was the 
grandest wedding you can ever imagine,” 
and she read aloud : 

“ ‘It snowed the day before and so it 
was all pretty and white outside when we 
drove to the church a little before eight 
o’clock. It seemed to me the stars never 
were so bright before. There was an 
awning from the sidewalk to the steps and 
the whole church was decorated in mistle- 
toe and holly with some great white roses 
near the chancel.’ 


248 Carita: Patriotic American 


“It must have been perfectly lovely,” 
breathed Carita, and Mrs. Andrews seemed 
almost as excited as she was herself, as she 
continued the letter : 

“ ‘The church was lighted with candles, 
just dozens of them, and they gave the 
prettiest, softest light. There were six 
bridesmaids, darling girls, every one of 
them. It would have been perfect, Alice 
said, if you could have been one of 
them.’ 

''Mi madre, I never was a bridesmaid” — 
and Carita’s eyes glowed at the idea while 
her father, as he lighted another cigar, laid 
his hand affectionately on her head saying, 
“Plenty of time for that, sweetheart, we 
don’t want you growing up too fast. Next 
thing you’d be married yourself.” 

“Listen,” went on Carita : 


The Piece of Wedding Cake 249 

“ ‘I was the maid of honor and came 
after the others, all by myself. My! but 
I was frightened. I wore white char- 
meuse and had my arms full of roses. As 
for Alice, she was so tall and stately I 
scarcely knew her. She was on father’s 
arm and carried a perfectly gorgeous bou- 
quet of orchids and her veil was caught 
with a spray of orange blossoms. I was 
so excited I haven’t a clear idea of any- 
thing after this except that the organ 
played the wedding march from Lohen- 
grin and that Tom and his best man met 
them at the altar. Tom had a ghastly 
time fumbling for the ring, I was dread- 
fully afraid he had lost it.’ ” 

Carita drew a long breath, stopping for a 
moment as she tried to fancy Alice so tall 
and stately walking up the aisle, then re- 
sumed : 


250 Carita: Patriotic American 


“ ‘There was a grand reception after- 
wards at the house, a perfect crush. 
Everybody said they were the handsomest 
couple, and, oh, yes, she threw her bou- 
quet and it fell in separate little bunches, 
and when I helped take off her veil I stole 
an orange blossom or two for you. You’ll 
find it in the box with the cake. There, I 
believe I have told you about everything, 
so Adios, from your chum, 

‘Katharine Morqan. 

“ ‘P.S. — I forgot to say they went to 
Cuba on their wedding trip, and did I tell 
you that Felipe was at the wedding? He 
is a dear, even if he did talk about you 
every blessed moment. 

“ ‘P.S. — again. Be sure and sleep on 
the wedding cake and don’t forget to name 
the bedposts. It never fails, you’ll surely 
marry the one you dream of.’ ” 


The Piece of Wedding Cake 251 

What fun — to name the bedposts, she 
would never have thought of that, and, 
oh, she must have a taste of the cake right 
away and, when she had broken off three 
tiny pieces, her mother and father agreed 
with her it was the best cake they had ever 
eaten. Then she read the letter all over 
again, to herself, until she had it almost 
by heart. How she would have enjoyed 
being there ! She heaved a long sigh, Mex- 
ico was very, very far away and it would 
be nice to go sometime to the States, 
she was quite convinced of that by this 
time. 

There was a dreamy look in Carita’s eyes 
as she finally laid down the letter — she was 
trying to picture it all, and to think Felipe 
had been there, too. She missed him more 
than she would admit even to her mother. 
She was quiet so long that her father at last 
gave a sly pinch to her arm saying, “Come 


252 Cant a: Patriotic American 


back to us, sweetheart,” while her mother 
reminded her it was time to go to bed. 

Then she suddenly decided she was sleepy 
and with a goodnight kiss for them both, 
holding the letter and the precious box in her 
hands, she went to her own room. 

It was strange how her sleepy fit seemed 
to leave her as she stood before her mirror, 
brushing her hair thoughtfully. “If my 
eyes were only blue instead of brown and 
my mouth wasn’t quite so big, I wouldn’t be 
such a bad looking girl and, if my hair was 
only light and fluffy instead of long and 
straight and black but — it’s no use ! I can’t 
change them. I am what I am, but I do 
wonder how I would look in white charmeuse 
with a big bunch of roses in my arms.” As 
she mused she lightly threw a silk scarf 
round her shoulders. “So Felipe talked 
about me all the time! Felipe, away off in 
the United States. 


The Piece of Wedding Cake 253 


“What was it he had said?” she repeated 
his words as well as she remembered them, 
“ never will want to take any other girl 
to the proms and the football games,’ ” and 
what was it he had wanted her to promise 
that day by the lake in the Borda Gardens? 
She remembered just how the ducks had 
grabbed so greedily for the crumbs, as she 
had answered, “Of course. I’ll promise any- 
thing you wish. Don’t I know you’re the 
best friend a girl ever had?” 

She roused herself, it was getting late and 
her mother would be looking in to see why 
she hadn’t put out her light. She must name 
the bedposts, as Katharine had said. She 
began at the foot. “Carlos and Henrique 
and,” she flushed a little, “Felipe, of course,” 
but whom should she name the other for? 
For a few moments she stood undecided, 
then, with sudden resolution, she cried gayly, 
“Now I’ve decided. It will be the great un- 


254 Carita: Patriotic American 


known.” She was so absorbed in naming 
the posts that she quite forgot to take a piece 
of cake to bed with her and, just as she was 
dozing off to sleep she remembered. Oh, 
dear, what a bother it was to have to get up, 
but Katharine had said it never failed, and, 
of course, she was terribly anxious to know 
whom she was going to marry. So up she 
jumped again, fumbled over her bureau in 
the dark, slipped the cake, box and all, under 
her pillow and then, in a second more, she 
was fast asleep, the wedding cake entirely 
forgotten. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE DECISION 

L ong after Carita had left them, Mr. 
and Mrs. Andrews sat talking earn- 
estly together, until at last he de- 
clared with great earnestness : 

“The situation is a serious one and it is 
daily becoming more so. I cannot feel sat- 
isfied to have you and Carita here while I 
am obliged to be so far from you.” 

“But,” she insisted, “the Americans, so 
far, have not been molested, and we could 
not be happy to go to the States without 
you. If it is best for us to leave, it cannot 
be safe for you to remain.” 

“It is an impossibility for me to even con- 
sider going. My business, as you know, 

256 


256 Carita: Patriotic American 


necessitates my being on the spot.” He 
spoke irritably as if the whole situation had 
gotten on his nerves. ‘‘We should be sep- 
arated for only a few months since I could 
join you as soon as the grinding season is 
over.” 

Mrs. Andrews sighed. She had never felt 
reconciled to his being so far away months 
at a time, and now her cup seemed more full 
than she could bear. Still, there was Carita 
to be considered, and, after some further dis- 
cussion, she acquiesced in his wishes. 

“I do not insist,” he continued, “that you 
go immediately, “but only that you begin 
quietly to make preparations and be ready 
to leave, if the situation necessitates. I tell 
you frankly, I have little hope for Diaz and, 
should he be obliged to resign, I should want 
you to go on short notice.” 

It was no wonder that Mrs. Andrews did 
not close her eyes that night but lay awake. 


The Decision 


257 


her mind feverishly working over possibili- 
ties of trouble the future might bring. 

So it was that when Carita entered the 
dining-room the next morning she found 
both her father and mother still agitated and 
abstracted. 

^'Yes, Mummy, I named the bedposts, just 
as Katharine said, and then, think of it, I 
slept so soundly I didn’t dream one single 
thing.” 

She laughed. “Wasn’t it too unromantic 
for words? I suppose that settles my fate 
and I shall never be married.” 

Her mother smiled faintly and Carita 
went on hastily. “But what IS the matter? 
You are both as solemn as owls? Have I 
done anything wrong?” 

“No, sweetheart,” and her father drew her 
down on his lap as if she were a little girl. 
“It is only that we have decided that it is 
best for your mother and you to begin to 


258 Carita: Patriotic American 


plan about going to the United States.’' 

“To the United States!” she repeated, 
amazed at the idea and looking helplessly 
at her mother as if she expected her to con- 
tradict the statement. “Go to the States! 
But — why ?” 

“Because the situation here is daily grow- 
ing more serious and we cannot tell what 
may happen. I shall feel much better if I 
know you are making your plans to go.” 

“But, Daddy,” and her eyes were big and 
troubled, “surely we won’t have to go with- 
out you. Why, we couldn’t do that !” 

“Nonsense!” he responded, with forced 
cheerfulness, “of course you could, if neces- 
sary, but, come now, we will hope for the 
best and matters may right themselves, after 
all. Only I want to feel you are ready.” 

A few moments later he was whistling 
down the monastery stairs, leaving Carita 
and her mother to talk things over. 


The Decision 


259 


“Would we take everything with us,” 
Carita asked, overwhelmed at the idea, 
“exactly as if we were never coming 
back?” 

“Oh, yes,” was her mother’s reply as she 
jotted several items in her note book. 

“Everything except — ” and the young 
girl’s voice was very mournful. 

“Except what?” 

“The best of all. Mummy — the balcony 
and the patio. I don’t see how I could pos- 
sibly live without them.” 

There was a moment’s silence broken 
again by Carita : 

'‘Mi madreP' 

“What is it, dear?” 

“I do hope we won’t have to go away from 
Mexico because, you see, if we do, I don’t 
believe I shall ever find the mate to my brace- 
let. I always felt that as long as we were 
here there might be a chance — ” 


260 


Carita: Patriotic American 


“Yes, dear, I know. I have felt the same 
way, although so many years have passed 
that I have almost given up the idea of find- 
ing out anything about your Uncle Robert. 
Strange he should have so completely dis- 
appeared.” She was lost in thought a mo- 
ment, then, rousing with an effort, contin- 
ued: “On the whole, I think it would be 
wiser if you would stop thinking about the 
other bracelet and look upon the one you 
have as a very dear and priceless heir- 
loom.” 

“Perhaps you are right. Mummy — only 
it would have been so much nicer if only 
it could have turned out differently. I was 
counting so much on finding a really, truly 
cousin.” 

Her mother nodded sympathetically, it 
had been hard for her, too, to give up the 
long cherished hope. 

Just at this point Mr. Andrews came home 


The Decision 


261 


and the conversation turned at once into 
other channels. Although they had fairly 
decided upon going, there did not seem any 
immediate reason for anxiety. “We will 
take our time,” he said, “and let things 
drift a little. I may even return to the 
hacienda, but I shall be happier because I 
know that you will be ready if the occasion 
comes.” 

After a little, conditions became almost 
normal and Mr. Andrews left the city almost 
lighthearted over the turn affairs seemed to 
be taking. Nevertheless, Mrs. Andrews de- 
termined to be ever on her guard lest the 
unexpected should happen. It was nearly 
April before the feeling against Diaz flamed 
out again, although it had doubtless been 
smoldering all the time. Larger and more 
threatening crowds were seen gathering 
down by the Zocalo and on the street cor- 
ners, train service to El Paso was entirely 


262 Carita: Patriotic American 


interrupted and more than once the cry was 
heard, “Down with Diaz !” “Viva Mexico !“ 
“Viva Madero!” 

Finally one evening, when there had been 
a most dangerous demonstration near the 
National Palace, Mr. Andrews surprised 
them. He had been greatly worried over 
the reports that had reached him at the 
hacienda and had come to the city at the first 
opportunity. “You must leave at once,” he 
repeated excitedly. “I understand the res- 
ignation of Diaz has been demanded and 
that he will be obliged to tender it as soon 
as he is able to leave his room. He has been 
in bed for a week past, suffering from an 
ulcerated tooth, otherwise he would have al- 
ready acquiesced in their demands. I have 
cabled sister Emily that we will leave Mex- 
ico City to-morrow morning. She will meet 
you at the dock in New York and take you 
home to Boston with her. Later we will 


The Decision 


263 


make permanent plans.” He spoke rapidly 
and in short disconnected sentences. 

“We will leave for Vera Cruz by the first 
train. I shall go with you and remain until 
the steamer sails.” 

“But, Daddy,” interrupted Carita, forcing 
back a sob. 

“No huts!” he replied; “be a brave girl, it 
is the only thing to do, and, by the way, the 
trains have refused to take trunks on ac- 
count of the congestion of travel. All you 
will be permitted is hand luggage.” 

“But, Edward,” expostulated Mrs. An- 
drews, “how can we go without our trunks 
and boxes?” 

“Nevertheless, it will have to be done. 
After all, possessions are of little value when 
lives are at stake. Put a few of your per- 
sonal belongings in suitcases and let the rest 
go. Upon my return to the city I will try 
and store the others where they will be safe 


264 Carita: Patriotic American 


until they can be sent to you in the United 
States.” 

“But, Daddy,” pleaded Carita, “can’t 1 
even say good-by to the girls ?” 

“Utterly impossible,” he replied firmly; 
“besides, I believe Dolores is already on her 
way, and Lucetta goes to-morrow.” 

“And Carmen? I haven’t seen her for 
months.” 

“Her mother is said to be associated with 
the Madero party,” was Mrs. Andrews’ al- 
most bitter response; “she is a dangerous 
woman, and, I understand, has been impli- 
cated from the first in the Revolution.” 

Carita’s brain was in a whirl. All the 
foundations upon which her young life rested 
were crumbling. It was to her nothing 
short of a tragedy to leave home in this sud- 
den manner and without a word of farewell 
to her friends. It was no wonder that her 
last night in the old monastery was a trou- 


The Decision 


265 


bled one and that when at last she fell asleep 
it was to dream that she and her mother were 
being driven out of Mexico by Carmen and 
her mother, disguised as brigands. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE FLIGHT 

I N the early hours of the next day with 
only a few suitcases and grips contain- 
ing necessary personal articles for the 
journey, the three set off. 

In the gray dawn everything looked 
strange, Carita held fast to her father’s 
hand, looking back longingly on the outlines 
of her beloved balcony. Hailing a passing 
cab, they were whirled to the station, the 
Cathedral appearing like some great threat- 
ening giant and the National palace seemed 
like a prison house. 

Arriving at the train they found all in 
confusion, for there had been no way of mak- 
ing reservations and many others were leav- 
266 


The Flight 267 

ing on the same train as they were them- 
selves. 

Carita and her mother were crowded into 
one seat while Mr. Andrews stood in the 
aisle, still holding his little daughter’s hand, 
until room could be made for him elsewhere. 
The engine puffed out great clouds of smoke, 
the brakeman called “a bordo/* and the train 
began to move. 

Soon they were passing through immense 
maguey plantations and Carita sat quietly 
looking, with blurred eyes, upon the monot- 
onous rows of stiff spikes. How queer it 
was! She wished she might have brought 
her guitar but it had seemed so big and 
heavy her mother had advised against it. 
She wondered how it would seem in the 
strange land to which they were going and 
she choked back a sob. If only Daddy were 
going with them ! Then, too, her heart went 
back to the city and President Diaz. With 


268 


Carita: Patriotic American 


a throb, she thought of him as she had seen 
him on the Fourth of July. He had been 
loaded with honors on that occasion and, 
now, sick and suffering, the people for whom 
he had done so much were clamoring to drive 
him out of the country. Was it always like 
that, she wondered. When people got old, 
were they always turned against ? 

After that she brightened up, it was in- 
teresting to travel and perhaps she would 
come back sometime. Then, too, her father 
had promised he would be able to join them 
in the States — perhaps in a few weeks. 

By this time they had left the magueys 
behind and were whizzing by an occasional 
hacienda and fields of Indian corn. Soon 
they began descending, by tortuous ways, the 
track crossing and criss-crossing into a ra- 
vine known to the natives as “little Hell.” 

The engine ran slowly and the train men 
kept a close lookout for desperadoes. It 


The Flight 


269 


was a dangerous place and every one 
breathed a sigh of relief at arriving at the 
old Spanish city of Orizaba, nestling amid 
her palms and gardens at the foot of lofty 
mountains which tower upward to their 
snowy peaks. 

A twenty minute stop and the journey was 
resumed, the air becoming appreciably 
warmer at the lower altitude. They reached 
Cordoba, another old Spanish town, without 
incident, but not long afterwards the train 
began running slowly and finally came to a 
dead stop. 

After a few moments, however, it steamed 
up again, went on a short distance, then 
backed and again stopped not far from a 
small dilapidated station. 

Curiously, Carita looked out of the win- 
dow. Boys and men were running back and 
forth talking in excited tones. After a lit- 
tle it was apparent the train would not go 


270 Carita: Patriotic American 


on — something had happened. She looked 
anxiously at her father — it was evident 
he was puzzled and knew no more than 
she. 

What could be the matter? Every one 
was asking questions and displaying con- 
siderable anxiety. There was a good deal 
of confused speculation, and Mr. Andrews 
got out of the Pullman to see what it was all 
about, returning in a few moments with the 
information that the train ahead of them 
had been wrecked by bandits. He was much 
excited as he explained that a bomb on the 
track had exploded under the engine, but, 
by a miracle, the engineer had escaped in- 
jury. Some of the passengers had been 
hurt, but rather the result of fright than 
because of the bomb, although the windows 
in the passenger coaches had been shattered 
by the explosion. 

“Oh, father! will there be a bomb under 


The Flight 271 

our engine?” asked Carita, terror stricken 
at the idea. 

“There isn’t the least danger of that,” he 
replied; “the cowards will be afraid to do 
any more harm for a few days. The worst 
that can happen is a delay of an hour or so 
until a new engine comes from Vera Cruz.” 

Then they settled down to waiting, but, 
after half an hour, this proved exceedingly 
irksome. Finally Daddy proposed that he 
and Carita visit the scene of the wreck. It 
was perhaps ten minutes’ walk and there was 
not much to be seen after all, some pieces of 
broken glass, a man hobbling about with 
a broken ankle, a woman with bad cuts on 
her cheek and lip, but, for the most part, the 
passengers were waiting in their Pullman, 
more or less patiently, and thanking their 
stars the explosion had not resulted any 
more disastrously. 

It was very pleasant there on the outskirts 


272 Carita: Patriotic American 


of a big banana plantation ; on the other side 
of the track were miles of coffee trees, with 
their dark glossy leaves and bright red ber- 
ries, and ahead of them stretched fields of 
pineapples and sugar cane. 

“Daddy, dear, wouldn’t it be nice to gather 
some of the pretty berries for mother?” sug- 
gested Carita, and, with ready acquiescence, 
her father led the way across the track. 

They walked slowly, stopping from time 
to time to pluck the berries, and had not gone 
far when they heard a child’s cry, and, a 
few moments later, came in sight of a little 
girl, not much more than three years old, 
sitting in the lap of her Indian nurse under 
one of the coffee trees. 

Drawing nearer, they noticed the child’s 
arm was evidently broken, and a man, prob- 
ably a surgeon, was using all his arts of per- 
suasion to gain her consent to let him see 
it; all the while the distracted nurse was 


The Flight 


273 


crooning an Indian lullaby in her effort to 
soothe the little sufferer. 

“Oh, Daddy, think how it must hurt!” 
cried Carita, quivering with sympathy, “poor 
little baby!” and Mr. Andrews hastened to 
proffer his services. 

“It’s a bad break,” the doctor remarked; 
“the child was frightened by the explosion 
and we brought her here to get her away 
from the others. Angelica, the nurse, was 
carrying her and, in some way tripped over 
a half-concealed tree root, with the result 
that the child’s arm was broken when she 
fell. Fortunately, it’s her left.” 

In the meantime, the little girl continued 
to cry bitterly. 

“Poor little baby,” repeated Carita, im- 
pulsively kneeling on the ground beside her. 

The wailing ceased for a moment as the 
child seized Carita’s hand, at the same time 
saying, “Mamacita ! Chula’s hurt — Mama- 


274 Carita: Patriotic American 


cita!” and, in another moment was sobbing 
her pain out upon Carita’s shoulder. 

“But the arm must be set !” urged the doc- 
tor, and the cruel task was finally accom- 
plished — Chula allowing Mr. Andrews to 
hold her, while Carita sat near, with the lit- 
tle right hand in hers. After she had gone 
to sleep — crumpled up in Carita’s arms — the 
doctor told the child’s story, at least as much 
as he knew of it. 

“Her mother was a poor young thing, 
scarcely more than a baby herself. I was 
called to attend her at the American hos- 
pital in Mexico City, where she was ill with 
typhoid fever. The father had been killed 
in a raid on Chihuahua. She seemed to feel 
from the first she could not live, and worried 
constantly about the child who was in her 
apartment, with only this faithful Indian 
woman to care for her. Chula is the Mexi- 
can term of endearment, meaning honey. 



CARITA SAT NEAR, WITH THE LITTLE RIGHT HAND IN 

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The Flight 275 

The day before she died the mother made 
me promise I would look out for the child, 
and, if possible, to find its father’s relatives, 
as her own were all dead. It seems there 
had been some sort of estrangement, way 
back, and she only knew they lived some- 
where in the States. She told me where to 
find some papers and photographs, and while 
these are in my suitcase I have not yet ex- 
amined them. The poor woman only died 
last week, and when I decided very suddenly 
to go to the States I concluded to take the 
child with her nurse, hoping to be successful 
in finding the relatives of whom her mother 
spoke. Should they not wish to acknowl- 
edge her, I do not know what I shall do.” 
He flicked the ashes from the end of his ci- 
gar, remarking absently, as his eyes wan- 
dered to the sleeping child, ‘Tt would be 
rather a predicament for an old bachelor.” 

Carita hugged the child closer. “Oh, but 


276 Carita: Patriotic American 


they will ! They can’t help but love her, the 
moment they see her.” 

^‘She is an attractive child, and I scarcely 
see how any one could refuse to give her a 
home, but. there are strange people in this 
world and they may not wish to open an old 
wound by assuming her care.” 

Mr. Andrews was deeply impressed by the 
story and asked the doctor to let him know 
how the matter turned out. . A faint whistle 
in the distance warned them it was high time 
to make their way back to their car. 

The child was so heavy Carita was obliged 
to let Angelica carry her, but she walked 
close beside them, without letting go of Chu- 
la’s hand for a single instant. 

Reaching the Pullman, they found Mrs. 
Andrews alarmed at their long absence. 
^‘Where have you been?” she cried anxiously, 
looking questioningly at the Indian woman 
and the child. 


The Flight 


277 


Somewhat incoherently, Carita poured 
forth the story ending, “And, mi madre, if 
the doctor can’t find out anything about her 
own people or — her voice broke — “if they 
shouldn’t want her, don’t you suppose we 
might keep her? She’s such a darling, mi 
madre. Please say yes.” 

Before her mother could reply to this 
amazing question, the big blue eyes opened 
sleepily and Chula murmured softly as she 
caught Carita’s smile, “Mamacita ! Mama- 
cita !” 

And what could Mrs. Andrews do but as- 
sent to the astounding proposition, although 
she warned Carita not to take the matter too 
much to heart for doubtless the real rela- 
tives would be found and, if so, there would 
be no possibility, she was sure, of their being 
willing to surrender their claims to the child. 

“An estrangement such as her mother re- 
ferred to is usually occasioned by temporary 


278 Carita: Patriotic American 


anger and, doubtless, the feeling has long 
since died away, so, little daughter, I pray 
you build no false hopes of what will, in 
all probability, never come about. We will 
do our best to assist the doctor to find the 
relatives and see that little Chula is well 
cared for.” 

With that assurance, Carita was obliged 
to be content, and all the rest of the way to 
Vera Cruz sat with the child close beside 
her, pointing out the sights from the window 
or letting her sleep with the curly head pil- 
lowed on her lap. 

As they reached the end of their journey 
and were about to leave the train, they heard 
the newsboys crying the evening papers. 
Mr. Andrews turned to his wife. “Diaz has 
resigned his office as President of Mexico.” 

Gravely he shook his head. “I fear years 
of anarchy for Mexico.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE OTHER BRACELET 

T here were three days to wait at 
Vera Cruz before the steamer sailed, 
three days with the air as balmy as 
in June. Carita thought it great fun to walk 
under the tall cocoanut palms between her 
mother and father, while Chula and her de- 
voted nurse followed close behind; her only 
fear being that some of the big nuts might 
fall on Chula’s head; some way, she never 
thought of any harm coming to herself, or 
the others. 

In fact, the child had stolen into their 
hearts and was a constant delight from the 
time she appeared in the morning, with the 
tangles all smoothed out of her curly head, 

279 


280 


Carita: Patriotic American 


to the last thing at night, when she put up her 
baby cheek to be kissed, as a matter of 
course. 

Chula was immensely interested in all she 
saw, calling the buzzards that make up the 
street cleaning department of the city, “big 
chickies,” and crying “mula,” as she 
stretched out her hand to the milk vendor, 
clattering by with his mule’s back loaded 
with tin milk cans. 

It was their last evening in Vera Cruz 
and the steamer was to sail at ten o’clock 
the next morning. Chula had just waved 
her little hand from the doorway, saying, 
*'Adios/' when the doctor entered the room, 
holding a packet of letters in one hand and 
a small box in the other. 

“Since you have been so kind as to mani- 
fest an interest in the little child, I am won- 
dering if you would care to look over the 
things the mother entrusted to my care. 


The Other Bracelet 


281 


This is her picture,” and he held up the pho- 
tograph of a delicate, pretty woman, of per- 
haps twenty-one or two. “And here is her 
husband, a fine fellow; it’s a shame he should 
have lost his life as he did ! You remember, 
the child’s grandfather left home when he 
was very young and came to Mexico City, 
where he married shortly afterwards.” 

“Did he ‘never communicate with his own 
people?” asked Mrs. Andrews. 

“I think not, at least there are no letters 
to prove it. His one son was the father of 
little Chula.” 

“Where did his family live in the States?” 
asked Mr. Andrews suddenly. 

“In the East, near Boston, I believe.” 

Mrs. Andrews gave an imperceptible start. 
Carita leaned forward, as if to interrupt, but 
her mother motioned her to silence. “Have 
you the name of the people ?” 

“Yes, somewhere — at least, I have the 


282 Carita: Patriotic American 


child’s birth certificate. While I run 
through the papers suppose you look over 
the trinkets ; there may be something which 
will give a further clew.” 

She opened the package almost reverently 
and laid the little treasures, one after an- 
other on the table. There was a lock of hair 
set in a brooch, an old-fashioned buckle, a 
ruby ring, and at the bottom something 
wrapped in tissue paper. Her hand trem- 
bled as she began to unwrap it slowly — what 
was her amazement at finding a bracelet, set 
with a single opal. 

^‘Oh, mother !” cried Carita, tense with ex- 
citement, “it’s exactly like my bracelet, and 
how red the opal is ! Do you suppose ? Oh, 
could it be?” 

There was no question about it — it was 
similar in every way, the chased band, the 
old-fashioned mounting, the raised clasp, 
with the hidden spring. 


The Other Bracelet 


283 


''Mi madreT exclaimed Carita, “do you 
suppose?’^ she stopped, then began again, 
“do you suppose Chula can possibly be?” 
again she stopped. 

Her mother finished the question, “Con- 
nected in any way with your Uncle Robert ? 
I do not know, it is all so strange. See, Ed- 
ward, this bracelet is the exact counterpart 
of the one Carita has in her possession.” 

She touched the hidden spring and, yes, 
there was the faded outline of a baby’s face. 
Could it be Chula’s father, her brother Rob- 
ert’s child? 

Carita hid her head on her father’s shoul- 
der, overwhelmed at the great discovery and 
he smoothed the long black braid abstract- 
edly, as he murmured, “Daddy’s girl,” and 
turned the matter over and over in his own 
mind. 

If it was necessary to have any further 
proof, it was found, in black and white, in 


284 


Carita: Patriotic American 


the birth certificate, for there was Chula’s 
name written plainly enough, “Eunice 
Dean.” 

“Eunice!” repeated Mrs. Andrews, turn- 
ing whiter than ever; “that was mother’s 
name, only hers was Eunice Dane.” 

“And Dane could easily have been cor- 
rupted into Dean,” her husband replied, “an 
error of a careless clerk, or the poor fellow 
may have made the change himself.” He 
turned to the astonished doctor. “There 
seems to be no doubt but that the child you 
have so kindly befriended is the grand- 
daughter of my wife’s brother who left 
home years ago. Ever since we have been 
in Mexico we have been trying to find some 
clew to his whereabouts but to be frank had, 
of late, given up.” 

Mrs. Andrews’ eyes were wet as she ex- 
pressed her thanks, showing him Carita’s 
bracelet in proof of their assertions and ask- 


The Other Bracelet 


285 


ing him if he would be willing to surrender 
his charge to them. 

“Indeed yes/’ he answered, although he 
had scarcely even then recovered from his 
amazement at the turn affairs had taken. 
“I cannot express my delight that the child 
has found her own people. Dame Fortune 
plays strange pranks.” 

“And we’ll take her with us?” questioned 
Carita, finding it all hard to comprehend, 
“and she’ll live with us always ?” She drew 
a long breath. “And to think I have a 
really, truly cousin. How glad I am we 
didn’t adopt an orphan.” 

Her mother’s eyes were misty as she lis- 
tened almost as in a dream, repeating over 
and over to herself, “Eunice Dane ! mother’s 
name — if only she could have lived!” 

The next morning there was little time 
to talk over the wonderful discovery, Chula 
accepting everything quite as a maicer of 


286 


Carita: Patriotic American 


course, and very naturally, for relationships 
don’t worry a three-year-old child, and she 
only smiled at the added love and tenderness. 

While Carita’s heart was full of the new 
joy that had come into her life she could not 
forget her father was not going with them. 

She clung to his hand, unreconciled to the 
parting, and so they went together to the 
busy wharf where the mob of cargadores 
were frantically gesturing and calling as 
they loaded and unloaded the cargoes of 
many steamers. 

^‘You will come soon?” she asked with a 
suspicious quiver in her voice. 

“As soon as ever I can,” and he made an 
eifort to appear cheerful. 

“And you won’t let the bandits hurt you?” 

“Oh, no indeed, that mustn’t trouble you 
for a moment,” and his voice was reassur- 
ing as he pinned an American flag on Ca- 
rita’s jacket, saying as he did so, “Don’t 


The Other Bracelet 


287 


forget, my dear, it is your flag and my flag, 
wherever we are, the same flag for us both.” 

At last the parting was over, the gang 
plank was pulled up, and Carita stood with 
her mother and baby Eunice, watching the 
Mexican shores slowly receding, her heart 
full of the hot resentment that anything 
should have happened to force them to leave 
the country she loved so well, and her great, 
splendid Daddy. Behind them was the In- 
dian nurse, her face muffled mournfully in 
her rebozo ; only her devotion to her beloved 
Chula had reconciled her to leave her native 
land. 

So absorbed was Carita that at first she 
scarcely noticed a little hand tugging at her 
skirt. Looking down, she saw little Eunice, 
her face full of distress as she repeated over 
and over, ‘‘Mamacita, hurt ! Chula sorry — 
Chula, kiss Mamacita!” 

Stooping down, she picked the child up in 


288 Carita: Patriotic American 


her arms and carried her to her steamer 
chair, repeating, “You darling! you blessed 
•little cousin, whatever would I do without 
you ?” 

And so her mother found her, when she 
came up from the stateroom where she had 
been busy getting out the thick steamer 
clothes. And Mrs. Andrews smiled, little 
Eunice was already bringing happiness and 
comfort. Something in the child’s expres- 
sion as she looked up from Carita’s lap, made 
her catch her breath with a smothered ex- 
clamation. “Yes, it was Robert’s look!” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER 

I T was cold on deck and steadily growing 
colder ; after a little, the spray dashed in 
their faces and they were obliged to seek 
refuge in the cabin. They were steaming 
farther and farther from the sunny land of 
Mexico: a “norther” was sweeping down 
from the regions of ice and snow, the vessel 
rocked, and all but a few seasoned travelers 
were seasick. It was a welcome change 
when the wind swung round, and the air 
grew softer as they approached the West 
India Islands and came in sight of Cuba. 
Before them were the gray outlines of Morro 
Castle and, in the distance, was pointed out 
the place where the Maine was sunk. 

The steamer was to make a three-hour stop 

289 


290 


Carita: Patriotic American 


at Havana to take on a cargo of fruit and 
sugar, and Carita was delighted at her 
mother’s proposal to go ashore, hurrying 
away to tell Angelica and Chula, who were 
not yet on deck. 

It chanced to be a festival day, the bands 
were playing, the balconies gay with bunting ; 
big palm leaves were tied to every doorpost, 
and there was a crush of automobiles and 
carriages on the principal streets. Chula 
shrank from the negroes they met, but 
laughed aloud at the pretty ladies in funny 
dresses that passed and repassed them. En- 
tering into the carnival spirit, they bought 
confetti, scattering it as they rode through 
the streets, and Chula tooted a tin horn to her 
heart’s content. 

Altogether, it was a pleasant break in the 
journey, and, happier than they had been 
since they had left Mexico, they again 
boarded the steamer. 


The Star Spangled Banner 291 


The remainder of the voyage, while cold, 
was bright and clear, and the air bracing; 
and Carita, well wrapped up in her steamer 
rug, would sit on deck for hours, with Eunice 
in her lap, watching the waves rippling in 
the sunshine. There was much to think 
about, the days of this strange journey. Al- 
ready the pangs of sorrow at leaving the only 
home she had ever known were lessening 
and she was beginning to look forward with 
real pleasure to seeing her Aunt Emily, who 
had sent her so many beautiful presents. 
Then there were the girls and Felipe ! There 
was school to think of, too, for she knew her 
mother would wish her to begin her studies 
as soon as possible. She must study hard so 
Daddy would be pleased. At this point the 
bothersome lump would always come in her 
throat and she would forget all her philoso- 
phy in rebellion at being every moment far- 
ther away from her father. 


292 


Carita: Patriotic American 


Chula was a favorite with all on shipboard, 
her quaint foreign ways, her attempts to pick 
up a few English words and her affectionate 
disposition attracting all alike. Once Carita 
found her in the Captain’s cabin. Holding 
up her skirts and bobbing her curls in time 
to the music, she was taking graceful little 
dancing steps while a victrola played a popu- 
lar one-step. 

“Ha ! ha !“ laughed the Captain, “it’s better 
than a darkey cake walk.” Then, as he saw 
Carita’s look of reproach, “Don’t say a word, 
the child has a future before her!” and he 
applauded more vigorously than ever. 

There were stormy, blustery days when it 
was almost impossible to stay on deck, and 
then, one morning, the sun shone again and 
they were excited at finding themselves off 
Sandy Hook, at the entrance of New York 
harbor. Soon they reached Ellis Island, 
where they were detained a few hours for 


The Star Spangled Banner 293 

quarantine inspection, and then, with band 
playing, steamed up the harbor. 

“Oh, Chula, see the big buildings!” cried 
Carita, as strange tall shapes began to loom 
up in the distance, which, even as she spoke, 
resolved themselves into the definite forms 
of skyscrapers. They passed Governor’s 
Island, where the child held out her arms. to 
the “senorita” as she called the Goddess of 
Liberty, holding her torch to the sky. 

The Stars and Stripes fluttered to the 
breeze. Carita’s thoughts went back to her 
father and that memorable Fourth of July 
when he had talked to her of the American 
flag. The quick tears came to her eyes and, 
turning to her mother, she cried, “Daddy was 
right. Mummy dear, it’s the most beautiful 
flag in the world !” 

The band broke into the “Star Spangled 
Banner” and dozens of handkerchiefs flut- 
tered in the air. What was it her father had 


294 


Carita: Patriotic American 


said, as he bade them good-by at Vera Cruz? 
She remembered his very tone, “It is your 
flag and my flag. Wherever we are, the 
same flag waves for us both.’' 

In a moment she was waving her handker- 
chief with the rest and excitedly crying to 
the child standing beside her, “Wave, Chula, 
wave, it is your flag and my flag!” 

Her heart beat faster as she realized, for 
the first time in her life, what it meant to be 
a citizen of the United States. Again her 
eyes wandered to the rippling flag, while 
Chula, still waving, repeated, “ ’Rah for the 
red, white and blue !” 

They were now close to shore, the gang 
plank was being let down, and every one 
was eagerly scanning the faces of those on 
land in hope of seeing some relative or friend. 
Suddenly her mother darted forward : 

“There’s your Aunt Emily, over by the big 
post,” and as Carita’s eyes followed in the 


The Star Spangled Banner 295 

direction indicated, she saw a slender woman 
in a trim tailored suit, waving frantically at 
her mother. While she reflected that her 
Aunt Emily was not at all the kind of a per- 
son she expected to see and immediately made 
up her mind that she should like her, her at- 
tention was attracted to a young fellow 
standing near her, waving his hat frantically. 

“Mother !” she cried, fluttering her hand- 
kerchief in return, “there’s Felipe. How do 
you suppose he knew we were coming? 
And,” she gasped in astonishment, “Alice 
and Katharine are just behind him, and, oh, 
I do believe the big man next to Alice is 
Tom.” 

By this time Alice was pointing excitedly 
in their direction and Katharine was waving 
wildly. 

Carita’s heart gave a bound of joy at sight 
of the little crowd waiting to welcome them. 
All sense of strangeness left her, the clouds 


296 Carita: Patriotic American 


showed only their silver linings. No longer 
did she and her mother seem to be coming 
to an unknown land but to a country full of 
happy promise where, with little Eunice, they 
could wait, in safety, until Daddy could come 
to them and they could make a new home in 
the United States under the Star Spangled 
Banner. 


GLOSSARY 


A Bordo, “All aboard.” 

Adios, “Good-by.” 

Adobe, Sun dried brick — unburnt — unbaked. 

Alameda, Spanish for park — especially the principal 
park in Mexico City. 

Amigo mio. My friend. 

Astecs, ancient Indian tribe of Mexico. 

Belem, city jail. 

Borda Gardens, magnificent formal gardens in the 
Italian style, still very beautiful, at Cuernavaca. 

Brassero, Mexican stove for burning charcoal. 

Buenos Dias, “Good morning.” 

Bueno, an exclamation, meaning, good ! 

Bull Fight, the national sport, introduced into Mex- 
ico from Spain. 

Calendar Stone, (Aztec) a huge stone, twelve feet 
in diameter and weighing over twenty tons, 
on the face of which is carved chronological 
and astronomical signs. 

Carita, term of endearment meaning dearly beloved. 

Carlos, Charles. 

Carlotta, the ill-fated empress of Mexico during the 
French occupation, 1864-1867. 

297 


298 Carita: Patriotic American 


Centavo, Mexican coin, in value about one cent. 

Chili or Chilli, a hot sort of pepper. 

Chili Con Came, chilis with minced meat. 

Chihuahua, a state in the northern part of Mexico. 

Chula, term of endearment, meaning “honey.” 

Chapultepec, Aztec for “Hill of the Grasshopper,” 
where every ruler, from the ancient Monte- 
zuma, has had his summer residence in the 
palace. 

Cortez, the Spaniard who conquered Mexico in 
1619. 

Cordoba, ancient Spanish town between Mexico City . 
and Vera Cruz. 

Cuerno.vaca, a charming Mexican town about sev- 
enty-four miles from Mexico City, A favorite 
resort for Americans. 

Diaz, Don Porfirio, President of Mexico from 1884 
to 1910. 

Dulces, a name applied to all kinds of sweets and 
pastry. 

Felisces Pascuas, “Merry Christmas.” 

Felipe, Philip. 

Fiestas, holidays. 

Frijoles, beans, the great article of diet, eaten and 
served twice a day by rich and poor alike. 

Gracias, Thanks, 

Giovanni, John. 

Gringos, a term of contempt applied to Americans, 
supposed to date from the Mexican war. 


Glossary 


299 


Guadalupe, a hill, just outside the city of Mexico 
where a noted shrine to the Virgin has been 
built. 

Giulia, Julia. 

Guadalajara, an important city in Mexico. 

Hacienda, a great fanning estate, in many ways 
resembling the feudal estate of Mediaeval times. 

Henrique, Henry. 

Hieroglyphics, picture writing on the old ruins, 
‘much resembling that found on Egyptian monu- 
ments. 

Hot Lands (tierra caliente), the low tropical 
country as distinguished from the plateau 
region. 

Idols, stone images of old Aztec gods, even now 
often found when a street is being excavated. 
There are great quantities of these in the Na- 
tional Museum. 

^Jockey Club, the most exclusive club of Mexico 
City. Its exterior is unique as it is overlaid 
with blue and white tiles. 

Maguey, known in the United States as the century 
plant. It grows in old Mexico in immense 
plantations. The sap is siphoned and ferments 
into “pulque,” the intoxicating drink of Mexi- 
cans. 

Mamacita, a term of endearment, meaning, “little 
mother.” 

Mango, a luscious slightly acid fruit grown in the 


300 Glossary 

tropics. The extreme juiciness makes it diffi- 
cult to eat and a mango fork is commonly used, 
the single prong of which is inserted in the 
soft end of its large stone. 

Mas Importante, most important. 

Mi madre, a term of endearment meaning, “my 
mother.” 

Manana, to-morrow. Mexico had been called “the 
land of to-morrow.” 

Mantilla (Spanish), a graceful lace scarf still occa- 
sionally worn by the women of the higher 
classes. 

Metate, the stone used in grinding corn for tortillas. 

Maximilian, the ill-fated emperor during the French 
occupation, 1864-1867. 

Muy Bien, “very well,” an exclamation. 

ontezuma, an ancient Aztec war-chief, “emperor” 
of Mexico at the time of the Spanish con- 
quest. 

Mozo, a driver. 

Muchas Gracias, many thanks. 

National Museum, the vast storehouse of the an- 
tiquities of the country. 

National Palace, the official residence of the presi- 
dent that contains the state apartments. Over 
the main entrance is hung the liberty bell of 
Mexico. 

Noche Triste Tree, an old cypress, a few miles from 
Mexico City, under which Cortez is supposed 


Glossary 


301 


to have wept when driven out of the city. 
(Tree of the Dismal Night.) 

Paseo, de la Reforma, a famous drive of two and 
one half miles from the statue of Charles IV 
(familiarly known as the Iron Horse) to 
Chapultepec Park. 

Patio, interior courtyard open to the sky. 

Peso, the Mexican dollar. 

Pawn Shops, greatly flourish in Mexico, especially 
the Government Pawn Shop, instituted and 
supported by the Government to assist the poor. 

Peon, the Mexican laborer, “the little brown man 
in the high peaked hat.” 

Pottery Vendor, a useful peddler who carries about 
loads of pottery which is much in demand, 
from the common clay dishes used for cooking 
to the highly decorated ware. Each part of 
the country has its distinctive kind of pottery. 

Pihate, an oval jar crammed full of sweets and 
trinkets and decorated with tinsel and paper 
streamers to represent grotesque figures. The 
breaking of the pinate is described in the text. 

Posadas, the Christmas celebration from the six- 
teenth to the twenty-fifth of December. The 
word means, “inn,” and its origin is in the 
Bible narrative of the Nativity. It celebrates 
the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. 

Pulque, a National drink.- 

Queretaro, one of the old towns in Mexico. 


302 


Glossary 


Quien Sabe, “who knows.” 

Rebozo or Rebosa, a kind of scarf worn by the 
women, thrown over their heads and around 
their shoulders. 

Sala, reception room. 

San Francisco Street, principal shopping street. 

Senor, Sir. 

Senora, Madam. 

Senorita, Miss. 

Siesta, the mid-day rest or nap — a custom in hot 
countries. 

Sombrero, huge steeple-shaped hat worn by men. 

Sugar Cane, is grown in many parts of Mexico. 
After the cane is harvested it is brought to great 
mills where the cane is crushed and the juice 
expressed. Most of the sugar haciendas now 
boast of modern equipment, although in some 
remote parts of the republic the primitive meth- 
ods of the old Spaniards are still in use. 

Tamales, minced meat and cornmeal, highly sea- 
soned with pepper and chilis, wrapped in a 
corn husk and boiled. 

Thieves’ Market (Volador), a place where dishon- 
estly acquired goods are offered for sale by 
agged vendors. 

Tilma, garment. 

Tivoli Gardens, a park much used for fiestas. 

Tortillas, the Mexican bread. Corn is soaked in 
lime water, then ground by the women between 


Glossary 303 

two stones into a fine paste which is baked in 
thin cakes. 

Viga, the old canal dating back to the time of Cortez, 
and the great trade route to the City of Mexico. 

Vivienda, the Mexican word for apartment. 

Water Carrier (aguador), the necessity for carrying 
the water from door to door no longer exists 
since the installment of the modern water sys- 
tem by President Diaz, yet the water carrier, 
with his great jar, is still seen occasionally and 
is one of the many picturesque sights of the 
capital. 

Xolchicalco, the site of famous ruins not far from 
Cuernavaca. 

Y Porque, Spanish exclamation meaning, “why?” 

Zerape, or blanket, the most conspicuous article of 
dress worn by the laboring man. It is usually 
woven of bright colors. 

Zocalo, a park in the center of the City of Mexico. 








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